


Smoke and Mirrors

by Riverlander974



Series: Carter Cousin Chronicles [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aunt Peggy Carter, BAMF Sharon Carter, BAMF Tony Stark, Cousin Sharon Carter, Flashbacks, Hurt Tony Stark, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Slow Build, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-06-08 05:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 72,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6840247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riverlander974/pseuds/Riverlander974
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Afghanistan, before New York, and long before Siberia, Tony was given the gift of Peggy Carter as his godmother.</p><p>It was maybe one of the best gifts he ever received, one that kept on giving even forty years later. Because even when the Avengers are scattered, the team and his trust torn apart, there's still one thing Tony has that no one, not Steve, not Ross, not Stane, had ever managed to take from him. </p><p>A family.</p><p>In the aftermath of the Civil War, Tony will need them more than ever if he's to pick up the broken pieces of himself again. And save the world. Of course.</p><p>Inspired by this <a href="https://riverlander974.tumblr.com/post/148493519642/asexualwallcrawler-cousins-sharon-carter-and">post</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Michael

**_2016_ **

“Shit.” 

Natasha clicked at the tablet another moment, but what she saw wasn't changing, which wasn't good. 

“ _Shit_.”

“Nat?”

Things were still tense between the rest of the group and Natasha, she knew that, she understood why, but Steve had made sure they’d accept her, her actions in Leipzig Airport to help Steve and Barnes get away had helped some. Her also helping Steve and Barnes in the Raft break out had gone a long way too in smoothing things over a little. 

She almost couldn't believe how it was only four days ago - _was it really only days ago?_ \- that Natasha had stood in Germany with Tony, preparing to take Steve and his buddies in.

Now she was on the other side, having helped them go on the run to Wakanda two days ago.

But still, the only ones who felt at ease enough to actually speak to her were Steve and Clint. _We’re still friends, right?_ _Depends how hard you hit me._ Sam sometimes, when he wasn't wrapped up in his thoughts too much, or in helping Steve and Barnes adjust. Wanda stayed away. Lang did too.

Natasha looked up at the archer, languidly rolling a coin over his knuckles on the sofa opposite her in the empty living room. The apartments T'Challa had lent them were resplendent and decadent and made Natasha ache for another wealthy place. For another home. For another billionaire-

“What, did you get stuck on Candy Crush?” Clint joked, but his gaze was focused. 

“Go get Steve.”

Clint straightened from his lounged sprawl in an instant, all coiled strength and grace, the coin vanishing between his fingers. “What’s up?”

Natasha huffed, “When we were leaving the Raft, when I took out the security, I left something behind in the system.”

Clint moved to join her on her sofa, eyes still trained on Natasha and not the table, not just yet. “What for?”

“Honestly? Blackmail,” Natasha shrugged, unashamed. “What Ross did was not part of the Accords- _no_ , we are not doing this again, Clint, I don't want to fight your stupid idea that Tony put you there because he _didn't_ \- and that’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“The _point is_ , I thought it would be a good idea to have something to use against Ross in the future. If we were ever to reform the Avengers.” 

Clint scoffed, throwing himself back on the sofa with his arms crossed and a stubborn look on his face.

“It’ll happen, Clint. The world will need us. But I don't want Ross a part of that. And even if _you_ don't trust Tony to keep an eye on Ross, I do, I know he will. He’s a paranoid bastard. But there are places that Tony can’t access remotely, so I left a bug for _me_ to keep an eye out.”

“You’re digging up dirt on Ross from the Raft? The man’s hardly going to be there when there aren’t any-” 

“When there aren’t any prisoners, I know…”

Clint shot up again, wide-eyed. His eyes darted hesitantly to the tablet in Natasha’s hands, but he couldn't see the frame clearly. He wasn't sure he wanted to. “Oh, shit, does he have prisoners again?”

Natasha sighed. “Go get Steve.”

“Show me, Nat.” Shaking her head, Natasha tilted the screen enough for Clint to see. “Oh. Oh, shit. Yeah, that’s bad. I’m- I’ll go get everyone.”

Clint scrambled out of his seat and out of the room. 

Natasha felt anxious as she looked back at the tablet in her hands.

The image of Agent 13 sitting in a cell stared back at her.

She hoped Steve wouldn't lose objectivity about this, but history showed that was unlikely. Letting him and Barnes go in Germany didn't mean Natasha agreed with Steve and his actions, but that didn't mean Natasha wasn't also regretful about rushed decisions she’d made based on emotions. 

Everyone had been compromised in this whole… battle.

They didn't need another cock up right now. The team was already in shambles. Natasha didn't need Steve getting overly impulsive again about trying to protect Agent 13.

It wouldn't be until later that Natasha would realise the one she should have really worried about acting impulsive in this situation was someone else entirely. 

* * *

**_1978_ **

Tony was nervous. More nervous than even the people and cameras from two months ago when everyone had wanted to know all about that circuit board Tony had built. It wasn't anything special, Dad had said so, called it _rude-i-men-tary_ , which Jarvis had explained basically meant stupid (not quite his words). Tony didn’t get why there was a big fuss then. 

But today he was nervous.

Michael was trying to distract him with the model plane sets they were building together. Mary had called him silly and left Tony to go read, but she’d said it with a laugh and sat close by with her book, so Tony didn't think she really meant it. Ana said Mary was at the age where she was trying to be a ‘young lady’ and not a little girl, though how that meant Mary couldn't build things with Tony anymore, he just didn't understand. Ana said Mary would figure that out soon too.

Tony couldn't bring himself to face the doorway which would welcome his doom. 

He startled when a hand waved in front of him, and blinked up at Michael’s face. The knowing smile on his face had Tony ducking his head shyly. Not that Michael let that go. He had Tony giggling as Michael pulled him across the soft carpet by his ankles, dragging Tony on his behind to sit in front of his model plane, much simpler than Tony’s own customised design. 

“C’mon, Tony, help me,” Michael laughed. “Can’t have my Chief Engineer slacking on the job!”

Michael wanted to be a pilot, like Luke Skywalker. Tony liked Princess Leia better, and Mary had picked Han as her favourite when Michael had described the film to them. Tony couldn't wait until he was old enough to watch the film himself.

So this was all practice, Michael said, to become a pilot, and Tony was always eager to help. Whether it was acting as his Chief Engineer, or drawing constellation pictures to stick on the walls for Michael to learn, or even as a pretend airplane for Michael to carry over his head around the house (that was his favourite way to help, Tony liked pretending to fly). By now, Michael had a veritable squadron of model planes hanging from the ceiling in his room. About a third were made by Tony.

With similar dark hair and eyes, sometimes he liked to pretend Michael was his big brother.

Tony really loved Michael.

And Michael really loved his cousin, who was coming to live in America now, and Tony really, _really_ needed his cousin to like Tony, otherwise, he might not get to play with Michael. He was already older, sixteen and infinitely too cool to spend time with Tony. He’d probably prefer hanging out with his cousin that was sixteen too, and- and- 

… and Tony would lose Michael.

“I can make the wings better?” Tony offered.

He was rewarded with a grin, and delved into a haze of engineering under Michael’s happy face. Tony didn't want to lose Michael.

Tony was humming with the radio, only jolted out of his haze when a pair of hands wrapped around his waist and lifted him high into the air. Tony shouted in surprise, Michael and Mary laughing behind him. He was spun round to see an unfamiliar face, with blond hair that fell into familiar brown eyes.

“You must be Tony, my new baby cousin!”

“I’m- I'm not-” Tony’s face felt hot as he stumbled over his words, but the older boy holding him only shrugged. 

“You’re Aunt Peg’s godbaby, you’re as good as family,” he insisted.

Tony flailed, not sure how to respond to the sudden swell of warmth that felt much too big for his little body. He wanted to hide his face and also grin as big as the sun.

“ _Harrison Francis Carter_ , you better not be terrorising the others already!” Aunt Peggy’s voice sounded loudly from the front of the house. “And you’ve left all your bags- Daniel, for goodness sake! You're in no state carrying all this alone, get back here!”

The older boy chose to ignore the shouting, more focused on hugging Michael and Mary without letting Tony go. “She only calls me that when she’s annoyed. Everyone calls me Hal.”

“Give him back,” Michael said, tugging Tony gently by the arm. “That’s _my_ Chief Engineer. You can have Mary.”

Mary snickered away, still hugging her cousin, as Hal let Tony go with a pout. “No fair. You’ve had him four whole years already!”

Michael shrugged, a smug look on his face as he held Tony close. “Then you’ll have to share. I'm not giving Tony up.”

There was a muted clatter from the front of the house, and Aunt Peggy was telling off Uncle Danny in the distance, and Mary was giggling, and Hal and Michael were arguing over Tony with smiles on their faces, and Tony realised something.

Maybe… maybe he wouldn't have to lose Michael after all.

* * *

**_2016_ **

Sharon had gone over every crevice of her cell. 

Three times. 

There wasn't much to it; one cot, with a single pillow and scratchy blanket; a corner divider for the toilet and sink; one drawer for a few personal items; one pointless stool; and one pitifully empty shelf. Her clothes had also been taken when she'd been unconscious, replaced with plain blue scrubs.

And there was absolutely no way Sharon could reach the camera spying on her. It was on the other side of the bulletproof reinforced glass on one side of her cell, pointed into her room to leave no blind spots. Not even the goddamn toilet was private.

It wasn't built to house supervillians for nothing.

A bit of an overkill, in Sharon’s opinion, even for former Agent 13 herself. She expected it was meant as a statement by Ross, though against who and for what, she was still figuring out herself. 

_Was she to be bait to lure Captain America out of hiding?_

Sharon wasn't sure that would work. 

Not that Steve wouldn't maybe attempt to break her out, but more that the security in the prison was _insane_. She’d been informed - warned - repeatedly that there would be no second break out from the Raft. And Sharon didn't think Steve breaking her out would be of benefit to anyone, other than her. 

She’d be a fugitive. She’d be on the run. She’d be with _Steve_ , and honestly, she- she didn't want that. Sharon didn't want that because… because she couldn't agree with Steve and his actions. 

Oh, sure, she’d given back his toys. That _was_ the main reason she was in this place. And yeah, she’d kissed the guy, but first of all he was Captain America, anyone would have, and secondly, it had been a goodbye. It was a goodbye because Sharon couldn't and wouldn't follow him, but she was incapable of leaving him defenceless.

He’d soon reminded her just how much damage he could do though, and the guilt and regret sat heavy in Sharon’s gut.

_Was she being made an example of?_

But Sharon wasn't an active superhero, the Accords didn't apply to her. Not really. Not in the capacity to be taken into custody, especially as she hadn't signed the documents.

Having her imprisoned was probably more damning to the Accords than beneficial. If the public found out, what would they think about the poor handling of the Accords? Ross would be out of his job (if not imprisoned himself), the Accords would lose all credibility, and the public, the world, would never trust any of them. The Avengers, or those supposed to keep an eye on them.

_Was she some sort of leverage?_

Over her brief but very active career as an agent in SHIELD and then the CIA, Sharon had made a lot of allies, formed numerous valuable contacts, and become a highly competent asset herself. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility that some higher-up had plans for her, dug up some dirt or a weak point to pressure Sharon into doing their bidding.

They would be in for a nasty surprise if they tried. Sharon had worked very hard to keep any weak spots carefully hidden and protected, and her record was squeaky clean.

Leverage of some sort seemed the most likely reasoning for her imprisonment _here_ in the Raft specifically. Stealing the shield and Falcon pack, Sharon had made peace with the idea that if anyone found out, if anyone even suspected her, her career would be over and she’d possibly face some time served in prison. Sharon had accepted that. She’d prepared for that.

This. 

This she had not quite prepared for.

She was never going to underestimate the ego of Thunderbolt Ross again.

Now the question was _leverage against whom?_ There were only a small handful of people Sharon could think of that Ross could get a hold of to use against Sharon, and an even smaller number that Sharon would do almost anything for. Most were heavily protected, but still…

Sharon sat on her cot, stretching her legs out on the nonsensical stool provided in her cell. She kept her face carefully neutral, very aware of the camera aimed at her cell and the guards outside, but inside Sharon was starting to actually worry. She ran over the possibilities on who Ross could have taken-

A loud klaxon sounded, half-deafening Sharon. Outside her cell, a heavy lock door slid open. She got to her feet, ready to face Ross and demand explanations, and generally make a nuisance of herself until he gave her the answers she wanted.

But it wasn't Ross that stepped out. It wasn't Ross on the other side of the glass.

“Secretary Rusk?”

* * *

**_1974_ **

Babies were more wriggly than Michael had thought. Or maybe he hadn't spent enough time around them to be sure. He’d only been four when Mary had been born, he barely remembered her as a baby and not as a whiny little girl who followed him absolutely everywhere.

Now though he was almost a teenager, he would remember this a lot clearer. There was a baby, and he would remember how wriggly and drool-y and tiny they were from now on.

All the adults were practically fawning over the thing, Michael didn't see the big deal. It didn't even _do_ anything much yet at two months, too little still to walk or anything interesting. His Mom had been raving about the baby at home over dinner. Enough that Michael had maybe sorta looked forward to finally meeting it on vacation away from DC during his summer holiday. 

The reality of meeting was disappointing.

It was sort of ridiculous actually. A minute ago the baby spat up on his Mom, and Mr Jarvis made a huge fuss about cleaning it, but his Mom was too busy cooing to listen. Mrs Jarvis had gotten Mom a clean shirt to wear, but his Mom seemed more reluctant to let his Dad hold the baby than worried about her dirty silk blouse. That was hardly fair. When Michael made a _little_ mess in the kitchen when making snacks, he got told off, not cooed at. 

And now Dad wasn't giving the baby back.

“Daniel, I won’t ask again,” Mom even had her hands on her hips, foot tapping away.

“Good, then I won’t have to say no. Again,” Dad said calmly, not even looking up. 

Mom huffed, but didn't try and physically take the baby away - again, _jesus_ that baby could wail when it got upset - and hoard it. _Again_. Mary scoffed and gazed at the baby over Dad’s shoulder.

“Can we go to the zoo in Central Park? There’s a new baby gorilla,” Michael asked. Mom shot him a disappointed look, but Michael was bored. “Mr Jarvis said the baby might to have a nap soon anyway!”

“Then we should make the most of the time he’s awake,” Mom said.

Michael huffed, slumping on the overstuffed couch, but his Dad caught his attention with a “Why don't you hold him?”

“What?”

“You haven’t held him yet. Even your sister’s had a go,” Dad pointed out. “Don’t you want to hold your godbrother?”

Michael could only gape as his Dad approached, holding out his arms with the baby. Mom hovered at his elbow, Mary over his shoulder, and Mr Jarvis seemed to be hovering _everywhere_ , but for the moment Michael could only focus on the baby. 

The baby was warm and surprisingly heavy in his lap. 

He was also staring up at him.

Before Michael could start panicking at those shiny eyes, his Mom settled next to him. “Tony! Tony, look, this is Michael. This is your big godbrother. Tony, look!”

A hand clapped Michael on the shoulder, and he looked up at his Dad's proud face. “Do you remember what we said when Mary came?” Michael nodded. “Applies here too.”

For the first time since arriving at the mansion, Michael felt like the baby _was_ as special as everyone said. Looking down into those big eyes on that squishy face, Michael felt a fondness stir-

“I want a go!” Mary demanded, interrupting the moment.

“No,” Michael replied automatically, scowling over his shoulder. “You had a turn. And he’s a baby, not a toy!”

“You didn't even _like_ him before,” Mary cried, pulling a truly horrendous face at him.

A high-pitched giggle pealed in the room.

Mr Jarvis gasped, gazing with adoration at baby Tony. “Miss Sousa, I do believe you've managed to pull Master Tony’s first laugh out of him!”

Mary gaped between the butler and the baby for a minute, before sliding an impossibly superior look at her brother. “He likes me better. Give.”

“No way.”

“I make him laugh!”

“I can too.”

“Prove it!”

Michael glared at his sister but didn't back down. Looking at baby Tony again, he pulled a silly face, like Mary had. 

Tony smacked a sticky hand to his chin and burbled a few vowels, and Mary fell over laughing at her brother’s failure. 

This wasn't over.

“Mom, can we take a baby to the zoo?”

* * *

**_2016_ **

Sharon stared back at the Secretary of Defence as he made his way towards her cell. He was unhurried moving across the antechamber, hopping up the stairs. The guards circled once before leaving, and then it was only the glass between Sharon and Secretary Rusk.

“Not expecting me, Agent?”

“Not certain I deserve such an honour,” Sharon said, watching him carefully. “Should I expect the Attorney General to offer me a lawyer? Is the President going to serve me dinner?”

Rusk smiled.

“I thought Ross in charge of my confinement.”

“Oh, he is. Officially, he is. But…” Rusk leaned closer to the glass. “Between you and me? He’s not really on top of anything.”

Sharon looked back at him, trying to understand his angle. Why was he here?

“I have good news for you.”

“Am I to be released?” Sharon asked, not expecting much. 

Rusk laughed, a hoarse sound that shot chills down Sharon’s neck.

“You have no right keeping me here.”

“Perhaps, but you aren’t getting out any time soon,” Rusk said, standing loosely in parade rest. “The good news is, you won’t be here alone much longer. I have a little company for you.”

“And the bad news? There’s always bad news.”

“You know him,” Rusk said.

Sharon’s heart started to race as her mind tried to come up with possibilities on who Rusk had. She couldn't let Rusk see how affected she was, but she was panicking, Sharon could admit that. _God, who did he have?!_ Steve? Fury? Or…

Deliberately relaxing her shoulders, Sharon rested a hand on one hip and painted her most unconcerned expression on her face as she looked back at Rusk. Bastard only seemed amused at whatever he saw.

Sharon didn't know how long it had been since she’d been taken. Depending on how long, an alert about her absence might have gone out by now. Missing CIA agent privy to highly sensitive information? Yeah, the US government was going to be invested in her return. 

 _If_ they knew she was missing. 

But if Rusk was here, and Ross being Ross, they had enough political clout to hush up her disappearance. Which wasn't a good thing, as Sharon hadn't been alone when she’d been taken. 

She’d just finished meeting Cameron Klein, who’d reached out about some information he’d dug up on Ross, information he thought would help take him off the Accords committee. She’d slipped the flash drive into a pocket as she was leaving the cafe when a white utility van had pulled up. The door had slid open, and Sharon had stared down the barrel of a gun a second before she’d felt a pinch in her shoulder. Dart gun. Fast tranqs. Whoever was inside the vehicle had bundled her inside, and the last thing she saw before darkness had overtaken her had been Cameron’s horrified face in the doorway to the cafe.

She hoped he’d run.

If these people knew or thought that Cameron was associated with her, Sharon didn't know what they'd do to him. And he wasn't a trained agent.

But maybe he had run and raised an alert. There were a few people who would definitely answer an alert up for her.

Unless Rusk was going to drag them, one of them, in here right now.

Dread weighed heavily in Sharon as she watched Rusk turn to the heavy lock door. A pair of prison guards stepped inside, dragging someone between them. _That wasn't good_. Sharon couldn't get a good look at whoever they were bringing in, but they had a dark head of hair. _So,_ _not Steve._

Sharon was surprised when the bars and glass between her and Rusk started to lift away, but she hadn't even twitched forward before there were guns aimed at her and more guards flooding the antechamber. 

The new prisoner was dragged into her cell and dumped on her cot. 

They must have stepped back, and the glass and bars must have fallen into place again, but Sharon didn't notice any of that, because she couldn't tear her horrified gaze away from the battered face of her new cellmate.

* * *

**_2008_ **

Tony didn't ever think he’d want to let go of Rhodey - _amazing, stubborn, impossible, he’s here, you're not dreaming, he’s here here here_ \- since the man had dropped from the chopper and landed in front of him in the sand, like an avenging desert angel to lift him up and take him away from here. And he was here to take him away. To take him back, to home, to safety.

And then Tony stepped into the chopper and spotted another familiar face.

There might have been tears. Not all from Tony either.

He didn't even care that other people were here, were watching, _Michael was here_. 

Tony didn't know who grabbed who first, but he found himself curled in Michael’s lap with Rhodey’s arm around his back as the helicopter lifted off, determinedly ignoring the medics trying to pry him away. Like hell he was leaving this cuddle group any time soon.

Michael was gripping him painfully tight, but Tony didn't care. Not about the sunburns on his shoulders, the aching in his bones, or the constant pain in his chest that was becoming a more familiar feeling every day. Right now, in this moment, nothing could hurt him. 

“Tony, oh my god, Tony,” Michael rasped, throat tight and face wet. “Mom’s gonna kill you.”

“She noticed?”

“Of course she noticed!”

Tony nodded, wiping his nose against Michael’s shoulder. He managed a weak smile, “You came.”

“Of course I came,”  Michael sobbed, pulling Tony closer, holding onto him like a drowning man- _don't think of that, don't think of the water-_ “Rhodes and I have been looking everywhere. Almost court-martialled for all the time we've spent searching for you, like I give a damn. When we picked up that explosion, we knew it was you. I flew the goddamn helo here. I’ll always come for you.”

Tony was almost certain it wasn't the reactor that was making his heart feel too big at that moment, so he knew he had to diffuse the moment. He was not up to the amount of feelings Michael was sharing right now.

“Kinky.”

Rhodey groaned dramatically while Michael roared with laughter, pressing kisses to Tony’s forehead even though he was sweaty and bloody and sandy.

“Man, why do you always have to make things weird?”

“It’s a gift,” Tony shrugged.

He was tired, so tired, now that he was safe. Exhausted beyond just his body. The loss of Yinsen a raw and bitter wound still fresh. Michael noticed, he always noticed on Tony, and nodded his head to the medics. Rhodey backed away to make room, but Tony held onto one sleeve with a whine.

“Shh, Tones, I'm right here,” Rhodey said, twisting to grip his hand tightly.

“It’s ok, Tony, we won’t let anything happen,” Michael promised him, keeping Tony’s head in his lap as the medics gently pulled him to lie flat on the floor. The rumble of the engines was soothing, Tony’s eyelids grew heavy. “It’s okay to sleep. I’ve got you.”

“Reactor,” Tony mumbled sleepily, tapping at his chest with a glass clink. “Don’t let’m touch it. Need it. For m’heart, s’important.”

“Okay,” Rhodey laid a hand over Tony’s, covering the reactor. “We won’t let them mess with it.”

Michael bent over to press his forehead to Tony’s, eyes screwed tight with tears, “God, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry we took so long, Tony.”

It took all Tony’s energy, but he pulled his hand off the reactor to pat Michael on the cheek, “You found me.”

“Yeah,” Michael nodded, curling a hand around Tony’s. Both his hands were being held. Tony couldn't remember the last time someone had held his hand right now. “Yeah, we found you.”

At last, since stepping out of his broken suit and out into the open sand, Tony closed his eyes and let sleep take him away, cradled between the two airmen with rough hands holding his tightly and tears in all of their eyes.

“I wanna… cheeseburger…” he mumbled as he drifted away.

Michael snorted. “Sure, Tony. I know someone who can’t wait to go for burgers with you again.”

* * *

**_2016_ **

“Tony!”

Sharon’s hands hovered over the cot, unsure where to touch without hurting Tony. He was stripped except for his slacks and roughly dressed in bandages, rolls of it wrapping around his chest. One side of his face was bruised and littered with inflamed cuts, and Tony’s left hand was a mess. Sharon could see spots of red dotting the basic bandages, and the wounds that had been left uncovered were dripping blood onto her cot.

He was also unconscious.

Hunched over him, Sharon shot a fierce glare at Rusk. “What did you do to him?!”

“I admit, his hand was our doing. Mr Stark was quite reluctant to cooperate with us. Very stubborn man, we might try again later. But the rest? Agent Carter, that was the handiwork of Captain Rogers and the Winter Soldier.”

Sharon’s heart froze. 

She’d never expected Steve to just go quietly against the Accords, but she’d _never_ thought that he’d go _this far_ against a teammate. Against Tony. He wouldn’t have. _Would he?_

“You’re lying.”

“Ask him yourself, if he wakes.” Rusk sniffed and looked at his watch. “If Mr Stark is to remain alive, it’s up to you. I have a meeting to get to-”

“You can’t just leave him like this!” Sharon snarled. “He needs- he needs a doctor! A hospital! He shouldn't be in a goddamn _prison_ _cell_ in this condition!”

“Agent Carter, you sound like you _care_ about Mr Stark,” Rusk smirked. “What does it matter to you if Mr Stark lives? I thought your actions spoke of your support of Captain Rogers. Was I wrong?”

Sharon bit her lip to hold back her words. Words she wanted to use to spear Rusk through the skull. 

Rusk stepped closer to the glass, beady eyes darting between Sharon and Tony. “Just who is Mr Stark to you?”

* * *

**_1995_ **

“Tony!”

A grin split the genius’ face as a little blonde bullet shot straight for him. He opened his arms and braced for impact, falling back onto the sofa with an _oomph_. 

“There’s my favourite girl,” he said, swinging the little girl up into a bear hug that she fiercely returned.

Sharon giggled against Tony’s neck in warm, ticklish puffs of air. When he pressed his nose to her hair, she smelled of bubblegum shampoo, and Tony felt all the stress of another tough work week fall away. He just held her for a while, eyes closed, enjoying how warm Sharon was against his front for a little longer. It had probably been a little too long since he’d slept properly.

Opening his eyes, he spotted Michael. His body was a relaxed slump against the doorframe, but the look on his face was all concern. Tony barely stopped himself rolling his eyes. 

Setting Sharon down again, Tony took her hand and made his way to Michael, leaving the stack of paperwork on the coffee table behind him. “Hey Mickey Mouse, what are you guys doing here? I didn't think you were on leave until next week.”

“Are you busy, Tony?” Sharon asked, pout on her face. And Tony was weak against that face. 

“Never too busy for you, pudding pop,” he assured her with a kiss on her head.

Sharon looked pleased, and Michael looked amused.

“But seriously, did I miss something?” A panicked thought crossed Tony’s mind, and he felt the blood leave his face in fear. “It’s not- Is it Aunt Peggy’s birthday? I swear I haven't forgotten again!”

“No, Tony, you haven’t missed Mom’s birthday.” Michael grinned as Tony almost doubled over with relief, Sharon patting his back in mockingly. “Rhodes called. Said he was worried about you.”

Tony let out a long, loud groan so large he was surprised he didn't deflate entirely.

“It’s nothing!” Tony insisted. “Honey bear is just getting worried over nothing.”

“Rhodes doesn't get worried over nothing, and if he spotted something to worry about over the phone _while overseas_ , then something’s up.” Michael looked up and down at him. “I know it’s difficult to see each other easily nowadays, but you can call any of us. We’re here for you. I know I'm gone a lot of the time-”

“No, I know. But there’s nothing to call about. It’s just Obie having a tantrum about this year’s quarter from my new robotics department.” Tony waved a hand at the frown on Michael’s face. “Oh, don't make that face. I know you don't like him, but Obie’s just trying to make sure I'm keeping the company up to the old man’s standard.”

“It’s _your_ company now, Tony,” Michael said gently. “You’re allowed to change the direction of Stark Industries. No matter what _Stane_ says.”

“Weapons are the big money-maker though. And I’ve got a lot of people depending on the company to make a living. He doesn't think robotics is going to be very profitable.”

“Stane doesn't know everything. Your inventions are _amazing_ , Tony. All of them.”

Tony just shrugged, focusing on gathering Sharon in his arms and tickling her. “You didn't answer me before. What are you guys doing here?”

“I figured you were probably due a break soon, and seeing as I was babysitting Shar today, I thought you could use a break with us,” Michael said with a smile.

“Did you miss me, Tony? I haven’t seen you in _ages_.”

Tony booped Sharon on the nose. “I always miss you. I've just been busy, I'm sorry.”

“Making robots?”

“Making robots.”

“We’ve got the whole gang together,” Michael cut in.

Tony’s eyebrows shot up, “The whole gang? Not for little old me, surely?”

“Nah, though we do miss your ugly mug.” Michael barked a laugh as Tony swung a punch at his shoulder. “No, no, come on. Really, we’ve got news to celebrate.”

“What news?”

Sharon jumped with a cheer, “Mary’s engaged!”

Tony gaped.

“To _Dick_?!”

“Oh, my god, Tony!”

* * *

**_2016_ **

Sharon didn't know what Rusk knew, how much he knew, how much he knew from Tony. He’d tortured Tony, he’d readily admitted as much. He’d also said Tony hadn't cooperated. So Sharon was flying blind here and she _knew_ that Rusk could tell.

That smug look on his face said it all.

Rusk grinned, a smile that was all teeth. “I think I know who he is to you.” 

He paced in front of the glass, back and forth, slow deliberate steps. Sharon didn't take her eyes off of him, but kept an ear out for the faint breaths from the cot.

“On the advice of Mr Zemo, I flew to England. He desired a trigger to compromise Captain Rogers.” 

Dread welled up in Sharon. 

“Before I did anything, I took the opportunity to have an informative chat with the formidable Peggy Carter. Talked about the good old days. She was very happy to tell all about her happy days with her _darling_ godson, so close to all her family.” There was triumph in Rusk’s eyes as he spoke to her. “A mutual love, I'm told.”

“You son of a bitch,” Sharon hissed. “She was a vulnerable person!-”

“Yes, but she wasn't lying, was she?”

“You had _no right_ -”

“Of course, when a lucid moment arose and she noticed that I was not her doctor, Miss Carter became quite distressed,” Rusk shrugged, nonchalant to the face of Sharon’s mounting horror. “I had to deal with her. She would have exposed our carefully laid plans far too soon.”

“You- you killed Aunt Peggy.”

“She fought back, but quickly she forgot why she was fighting me. It was simple enough to slip her something to help her along in her sleep.”

Sharon screamed as she threw herself against the glass, bashing her fists against the glass, but it did nothing. The glass held, it didn't even fracture. She only left bloody smears from her knuckles on the glass. 

Rusk was laughing.

“Did you hear what he said?” Sharon shrieked, looking at the guards behind Rusk. “How can you just stand there?! This man is a _murderer_!”

“These men are loyal to me, Agent Carter. They aren’t going to turn me over to anyone.”

“You’re sick. You're _sick_ , you can’t just-”

“It took a while for Miss Carter to spot the deception, but then again…” Sharon watched Rusk scratch at his neck. “I’ve always had a way with masks.”

Sharon could only stare and gape, as Rusk’s hand came away from his neck, fingers still pinching the skin, as he _peeled off his face_.

And what lay under it was so much worse.

“Skull,” Sharon gasped. “You’re Red Skull!”

It was like looking at something out of a nightmare, as a bone white grin cracked across that red demonic face.

* * *

**_1962_ **

Peggy knew from the moment that precious bundle had been placed in her arms, her life would be changed in ways she had never expected. Her heart was a stout old thing, getting older as Peggy herself was, steadily more battered, worn and weary. Peggy hesitated in giving any more of herself away, especially with how intimate she was with the dangers in the world so close. Too close. This was always going to be a risk, and not just from her age.

But one look into that face, the snub nose, pouting lips and fat cheeks, and Peggy handed her heart away without another thought. Fully and completely. Even the parts of it that Peggy had fiercely guarded and never dared show to anyone, not her parents, not her brothers, not her friends, not even the people she’d fallen for.

Glancing away for only a second, Peggy saw her husband’s shining eyes and matching grin and thought, _he’s probably just done the same thing_. Daniel had probably just given all of himself away too, including the parts he’d kept from Peggy. Should there be envy? Resentment? Jealousy?

Locking eyes, they were in complete and instant agreement. 

There was none of that felt by either of them. Only approval. A sense of, _yes, right, of course they should feel like this, nothing less than the whole of ourselves is enough for this little darling gift, if we could offer more we would, blessed, we’re so blessed_.

It was the scariest feeling Peggy had ever felt, but oh, she couldn't bring herself to regret it. Not for a moment.

She lightly traced one of those fat squishy cheeks, stretching her neck to press a kiss to the downy wisps on top that elicited a delightful little mewl that shot sunlight into her heart, and made Peggy want to laugh loud enough for all the world to hear, and to never ever ever have to let go.

Daniel shifted to cradle Peggy and her precious cargo both in his arms, sitting behind her to look over her shoulder and marvel with her at the tiny face that was completely ignoring them in sleep, oblivious to their wonder.

“Hey there, buddy,” Daniel said, whisper soft, delicately reaching out to cup the back of the baby’s head in one hand. “We’ve been waiting to meet you.”

“Oh, he’s perfect, Daniel,” Peggy said with a sniff she’d deny, but nothing was going to wipe the smile from her face that day. 

“Yeah, he is.”

“Hi, baby boy,” Peggy cooed, lifting her arms so she could kiss that little face. 

He wiggled, face scrunching up, before settling in her arms again, snuffling as he pressed his nose to Peggy’s skin. 

“Hello, Michael,” Peggy whispered. “I’m your Mummy.”


	2. Mary

**_2016_ **

Steve hunched his shoulders at the venomous look on Natasha’s face. The only thing holding her back was Clint’s hand on her arm. Bucky was a blank-faced shadow at Steve’s back. All other eyes were on the tablet lying between them.

T'Challa had already left to find answers, horrified by what he’d seen. He had calls to make.

Natasha snarled, “What happened in Siberia, Steve?” 

*

Tony was still unconscious. Sharon was trying not to worry about that.

He was also still bleeding sluggishly. Sharon couldn't help worrying about that.

Red Skull grinned, a hungry cast to his eyes as he observed them through the glass.

“As I was saying, I have a meeting to get to, and these things take a little time to put on properly,” Red Skull said, holding up his mask. “If Mr Stark wakes, remind him that we will talk again with him and that cooperation would be in his best interests.”

He turned on his heels without another word, and Sharon could only watch as he left the antechamber. Most of the guards followed him out. 

None had showed surprise at finding out that the Secretary of Defence was, in fact, the not-dead Hydra villain Red Skull. And if what he’d said before was true, even Red Skull’s confession on camera would do nothing to stop him and his plans. The men watching the security cameras were probably in his pocket too.

Three remained behind like before, patrolling the outside of her cell.

Rapping her hand on the glass, Sharon looked at the nearest guard. “I need- I need a first aid kit.” They seemed unmoved, faces hidden behind their visors as they continued on their patrol. Sharon smacked her hand harder against the glass. “Hey! He needs medical attention! If you won’t get someone or something for me to treat him…”

They weren't going to help her. 

They weren't going to help Tony.

So Sharon turned her back to the glass and focused on Tony.

He barely moved as Sharon ran gentle fingers over him and catalogued his injuries. The cuts all over him were numerous but individually not serious, as long as they started properly scabbing over soon. Tony’s pulse was a little fast, and his skin warm and clammy, Sharon hoped it wasn't signs of an infection. She had nothing to treat him with.

Not to mention his ribs, all those bandages can’t have been for nothing. There was a slight hitch in his breathing sometimes, but Sharon felt they were from a few tender ribs. There were no wet or sucking sounds as his chest moved, so things could be much worse there. Sharon raised his head on the pillow better, so his airway was definitely clear, and then just kept an ear out for any more worrying sounds as Tony breathed.

It was the state of his left hand, that had Sharon cringing.

Sharon wanted to cry at the fingers bent in crooked and wrong ways, two fingernails missing, the angry swelling all over.She wondered at the damage to the muscles and nerves, hoped it looked worse than it was. _Not his hands_. Not Tony’s _hands_ , which created wonders. 

And Red Skull had practically ruined one.

Sharon hoped it could be fixed. It never would in here, not in this cell on the Raft. 

But that wasn't going to stop her doing _something_.

Checking Tony’s pockets came up with nothing. _Expected, you expected that Sharon, don't get worked up now_. 

Digging through the meagre pickings of the drawer, Sharon pulled out the spare set of scrubs and began tearing it into strips. Ripping it apart with teeth and hands, Sharon started humming a tune from long ago to fill the silence and maybe soothe the pained expression on Tony’s face. 

Red Skull had exposed their relationship now, however much and however deep he’d dug didn't matter. There was no use pretending indifference, no use pretending that Sharon and Tony were only colleagues, that they were not friends, not family. Not with Tony like _this_ in front of her.

What was more important right now to Sharon was Tony, and what comfort and safety she could offer. The guards weren’t going to touch him while Sharon was here. _See_ _them try_. And Red Skull could just _try_ and take Tony again whenever he returned.

Sharon wondered if their absence had even been noticed yet.

Trying to remember the words of the lullaby Tony had once sung for her, Sharon could only remember pieces of it, but the tune was rooted in her heart. Humming softly, Sharon waited for the words to come back to her. 

It wasn't like she had anything but time right now.

* * *

**_1975_ **

The new doorbell would take some getting used to. The whole house really, but Mary did like the view from her new room, all of the Christmas decorations already up over a month early. Plus, there were other benefits to the move.

“Can someone answer that?” her Dad called out from downstairs.

“I’ll get it!” Mary answered, leaving her books to sort later. She skipped down the stairs and checked through the door window pane, grinning at what she saw on the other side. She threw the door open with a happy scream. “It’s the Jarvises! And _Tony_!”

“Tony?!” Michael yelled from the back of the house.

“Michael!” Dad snapped. “You can see him in a minute, for now, be careful on that ladder.”

Mr Jarvis smiled down at her, laden with bags. “Mr and Mrs Stark send their hellos but were tied up with meetings. They should be here tonight.”

Mary ignored all that, making grabby hands at the baby in Mrs Jarvis’ arms. Tony nearly threw himself at her, to Mr Jarvis’ distress, but Mrs Jarvis only laughed and passed the baby over. Mary was careful to hold him like Dad had said, but Tony didn't even seem to care, one hand already curled in her hair as he babbled at her, too fired up for his words to keep up with him.

“Are you excited?” Mary grinned, heading into the living room. Tony didn't even stop talking around his smile, showing off all of his gummy baby teeth. “Are you happy we moved here? We can see each other all the time now!”

She sat on the sofa, Tony on her lap, ignoring Michael whining in the background about wanting to play with Tony. “We haven't unpacked the kitchen, but you really want the _curtains_ up, Mom?!”

“You’d be finished sooner if you stopped whining, you know.”

Tony turned at the sound of Mom’s voice, wriggling out of Mary’s lap and toddling over to where Mom was supervising Michael hang the curtains. He tugged at Mom’s skirt, and positively  _beamed_  at her. Then Tony raised his hands and made ‘uhn, uhn!’ sounds. 

Michael melted - the big sap - but Mom rolled her eyes. She still picked Tony up, shaking her head and tapping Tony on the nose, “You are utterly  _utterly_ spoiled, darling. I blame Mr Jarvis and my son.”

Somewhere behind her, Mary heard Mr Jarvis splutter at the accusation, Michael protesting his innocence while Dad made several arguments to his guilt, completely ignoring how much Dad himself spoiled the toddler. Tony rested his head on Mom’s shoulder, happily watching everyone with a hand jammed in his mouth. 

It’d take some getting used to, living in New York, but Mary was pretty sure she’d love it.

* * *

**_2016_ **

Sharon had made quick headway on the makeshift bandage making, but there wasn't much material to work with in the first place. Not much to work with at all. No antiseptics or anaesthetics or painkillers. Just a small pile of improvised bandages and hoping the water from the sink was clean.

Sitting on the edge of the cot, Sharon delicately lifted Tony’s left hand onto her lap. 

Tony let out a whimper, the first sound he’d made, breaking Sharon’s heart as she hushed him. He quieted down quickly, though Sharon wasn't sure it wasn't just Tony passing deeper into unconsciousness. She tried to push the worry from her mind for now, she had to concentrate.

With such sparse supplies, Sharon had to prioritise what she could and couldn't treat with Tony. The wraps around his chest weren't the best, but they were holding, and that would have to do for now. His hand though…

Sharon took a deep breath and steeled herself as she started a more thorough examination of Tony’s hand.

“I'm sorry.” Tony was whimpering again. “Shh, Tony, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

It was almost a blessing that he was passed out. Almost.

Three of his fingers were definitely dislocated in at least two joints each, a few small bones broken in the back of his hand. The skin was so swollen Sharon had difficulties checking over his hand, but she managed, and at least there were no open wounds.

The only tiny baby little silver lining was that it was all very precisely done. Awfully and under torture, of course, but still, it would make the next part easier.

Bracing both herself and Tony’s wrist with her knees, Sharon felt her stomach roll with the first _POP_ as she began to straighten his ring finger. With every sickening sound as Sharon continued with Tony’s hand, she imagined new ways to get back at the people who had done this. A break for every break, a bruise for every bruise.

Rusk and Ross and whoever else had done this were _all_ _going to_ _pay_.

* * *

**_1992_ **

“What do you mean ‘ _Tony’s missing_ ’?”

Mr Jarvis was in tears, clutching tightly to Mrs Jarvis’s hand, a desperate look on his face as they looked to her Mom for answers.

“Just that,” Mr Jarvis wept. “No one seems to have seen him since the Christmas service.”

“Mr Jarvis, today is _New Years Day_.”

“I know!”

Mom reached out a trembling hand to Dad, and for a moment they swayed where they stood, pale with shock, and Mary saw how old they really were. How old all four of them were, aged with their fear and worry and panic.

“Is it a- have there been demands?”

“No,” Mr Jarvis said. “I don't think it’s a kidnapping.”

“No?”

“Tony informed us after the service that he was heading back to school with Mr Rhodes. When we didn't hear from him at midnight as usual for a singalong of Auld Lang Syne, I called. Mr Rhodes said Tony had informed _him_ he was staying with _us_ until the start of the next term.”

Mom let out a long breath, “He’s gone off by himself.”

Mr Jarvis nodded rapidly, “But he’s in no state to be alone right now.”

“Of course not.”

“Mr Stane didn't seem concerned,” Mrs Jarvis said with pinched ruby lips. “He said Tony was off indulging in parties. But he would not disappear on us like _this_ , not without telling someone.”

“Mr Rhodes is searching around Cambridge,” Mr Jarvis said. “We couldn't go to the police. If it got out that Tony was out there, alone, all sorts of people might try to- try to- it’s been such a mess since the accident.”

“Don’t worry, Mr Jarvis,” Mom said, puffing up with a steely look. “We’ll find him.”

“I’ll get my coat,” Dad said. “Peg, maybe Nick could help.”

Mom nodded, “I’ll go call him. Do you think Hal-”

“He’s in London with the girls.”

“Oh, right. I forgot.”

Her parents scattered with determined steps and Mrs Jarvis tugged her shaking husband to the kitchen to calm down. 

Mary was left alone on the settee. 

The only reason she was with her parents was because of a badly broken leg and medical leave for the next month, and she got bored alone at her place. 

She had half a mind to put some calls out herself when a thought crossed her mind.

Two painkillers and a cab ride later, Mary was standing in front of a nondescript apartment in Brooklyn. The spare key from her bag unlocked the door, and Mary hobbled inside.

Dust lightly covered the place, but there was a fresh trail of disturbance to the back of the flat. Mary followed an abandoned shoe, a crumpled designer coat, a small duffel bag split open, and empty bottle after empty bottle. Reaching the bedroom, Mary cracked the door open with a nudge of her crutch.

The room was dark, curtains drawn, and the stale air stank of unwashed human and alcohol and depression. Just peeking out of the mound of blankets on the bed, Mary made out a tuft of black hair.

She sighed with relief, and turned back to the living room, picking up the phone.

“Ana?” Mary said, careful to keep her voice quiet. “It’s Mary, I’m at Michael’s. I found Tony.”

There was a mixture of happy and worried cries over the phone.

“No, no, don't all come. I don't think he wants to be crowded right now. I’ll stay with him and call when he’s a little better.”

“If you're sure, Mary,” Mrs Jarvis hummed. “You’re a good girl. Bring him home soon.”

“I will. I’ll see you later.”

Once she hung up, Mary shuffled back over to the bedroom, leaving her crutches by the nightstand as she gingerly crawled onto the bed. She rested her injured leg on top of several pillows, and then bundled the entire heap of boy and blanket to her. 

Michael, indulgent and coddling big brother, was a safe haven for Tony since he was a child. But he was on the other side of the world right now. His home must have seemed the next best thing to having Michael.

“They’re really gone…”

His voice was a shock in the silence of the room, hoarse and raw. Mary didn't say anything, there wasn't anything to say that would make the loss of his parents better. Their relationship wasn't as close as Mary’s with her own parents, but they had been Tony’s parents, and Mary missed them too.

Tony nodded sadly to himself, tears dripping down his nose.

Kissing his greasy hair, Mary knew they’d have to talk about his drinking later, and tell him off for disappearing like he had. But for now, she just hugged him, watching Tony curl closer to her as he cried.

* * *

**_2016_ **

Sharon jammed her foot against the stool again, and the seat came free with a loud _CLANG_. Her foot was throbbing, the heel so sore it was almost numb, but Sharon felt a vicious smile cross her face for a second. 

The guards peered inside the cell. Sharon considered using the separated seat to try and break the glass keeping them in here but stopped herself. A small metal stool seat wouldn't break that glass, and even if it _did_ , Tony was in no state for Sharon to cart him out of here, and there was absolutely no way Sharon was going to leave him behind. 

So she turned back to the cot to use the seat as she’d planned, as an improvised splint for Tony’s broken hand. She’d managed to set his fingers straight, or as straight as she could manage, using precious strips of material to bind them. The splint would give support to the breaks in his hand, and keep his fingers flat.

Gently resting Tony’s hand on the seat, Sharon bound his hand to the cool metal surface. It wasn't elegant, but there wasn't room to be. 

With Tony’s hand seen to as best as she could, Sharon turned back to the damage to his chest. It needed cleaning and fresh bandages. The longer ones she’d managed to make from the pant legs she’d torn apart. Tentatively peeling back the blood-spotted bandages, she winced at the bruising she found. But then- _what was that…?_

In the middle of all the bruising was something darker.

Sharon sat back a little to let more light fall on the cot and stared at what she saw. 

There was a darker purple bruise that cut straight across Tony’s chest, clean through and perpendicular to the scars where he used to house his arc reactor. As Sharon traced the line with a frown, she realised it wasn't quite straight. There was a slight curve to the line. Not much, but it could- it could fit with-

“Steve?” she gasped, Red Skull’s words coming back to her. 

‘… _that was the handiwork of Captain Rogers and the Winter Soldier…_ ’

That bruise, could it have been from the shield? _Steve’s_ shield? The shield Sharon had given him back, only for him to-

“No.”

The thought was suddenly too much. Everything was. It was all too much, Sharon didn't know how to deal with this guilt on top of it all. She felt sick. She felt like she was _going_ to be sick. That she might have had a hand in hurting Tony-

Sharon stifled a sob, biting her lip hard to keep it from trembling, as she kept tracing that bruise on Tony’s chest. She had to stay strong. Tony was depending on her. 

Just- just because the shield - _a_ shield - had been used to hurt Tony, it didn't mean Steve had done it. Red Skull could be lying. He must be. When Tony woke up, he’d tell Sharon himself what had happened. 

Someone else had to have used the shield against him. Steve would never…

_But what if he had?_

Sharon shivered at the thought, at the image that played through her head, Steve driving the shield into Tony’s suit hard enough to bruise his flesh. But he couldn't have.

He couldn't have.

* * *

**_1980_ **

There was a tentative knock on her door that Mary was tempted to ignore. She didn't get a chance to do so before it swung open anyway, so she chose to bury herself deeper under her duvet with a miserable sniff. 

“Go away.” 

“Mary?”

Mary groaned quietly into her pillow. That was _cheating_. Her Dad was cheating by using Tony to check on her, because no one, _no one_ , could resist Tony when he was sad and concerned and worried and - most importantly - did The Eyes. Dad must have been desperate.

“I’m fine, Tony,” Mary said, voice muffled, sticking one hand out of the duvet to wave him off. “Go back downstairs.”

Tony didn't listen. Mary wasn't surprised. _I’ll remember this trick, Dad, next time you have a bad leg day_. 

Mary felt a brief burst of cool air and her mattress shift and dip, and then knees and elbows bumping her, as Tony crawled up the bed under her duvet. She could feel him breathing beside her, and Mary _knew_ if she turned her head a little she’d be faced with The Eyes, so she kept her face buried in a pillow.

It didn't deter Tony, and she’d doubted it would. She winced when a sharp knee caught her side, as Tony slid closer and began his transformation into a human octopus, wrapping around her as much as his little body allowed, as though to protect her from the whole world. Then he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.

Despite herself, Mary _did_ start to feel a little better. _Damn him_. She’d planned on wallowing in self-pity a little longer. 

“Do I gotta kick someone’s butt?”

Mary snorted, at both Michael’s words out of Tony’s mouth, and from trying to imagine Tony hurting anyone. An impossible image. “No.”

“What do I do, then?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing, Tony.”

“But you're _sad_.”

He said it like this was the worst possible thing, Mary being sad about anything. A fierce little voice that promised her the world, if it would only stop Mary being sad. She tried not to smile at that, the little charmer.

“I can call Michael?”

To Tony, there wasn't any wrong that Michael couldn't put right. He rivalled her Mom and Captain America as superheroes in his eyes, to her brother’s eternal delight. (They’d both cried when Michael had gone off to Basic, a hilarious and heart-breaking sight. Mary had photos of the idiots.) He was the human equivalent of Ana’s baking, to Tony. Mary expected him to offer a baked treat from Ana soon too, if she kept sulking like this.

“You don't have to do anything, Tony.”

“But I'm good at fixing things!”

“I know,” Mary sighed, turning to face him on the pillow. Yup, there were The Eyes. Slowly turning more panicked as Tony spotted drying tears on her cheeks.

“You’re _crying_! I- should I get Aunt Peg?”

Rolling her eyes, Mary threw an arm around Tony and pinned him to her side. He seemed very happy to tuck himself impossibly closer. “Just… stay with me. Talk.”

Tony stared at her, unconvinced, but thankfully he didn't keep pushing. “I was working on your camera today.”

“Oh yeah?”

He nodded his head, delving into a spew of technical talk about the improvements he’d made to Mary’s camera, an expensive birthday present from Howard last year. It had been top of the line, but not good enough in Tony’s opinion. When she’d broken a lens last week, Tony had taken the opportunity to seize the camera for ‘upgrades’.

As Tony’s voice continued in a familiar, animated cadence, hands nearly smacking Mary in the face when he started gesticulating, Mary felt her low mood disappear.

No doubt when Tony was done here, Dad would shuffle him along to work his magic wherever Mom had gone off to sulk herself.She and her Mom would probably make up from their fight soon enough, their tempers were so alike. Mom didn't really have a leg to stand on anyway, saying Mary shouldn't want to become a spy-agent type.

And Tony, he really was good at fixing things.

* * *

**_2016_ **

“I cannot allow you to go to the Raft.”

Natasha warily eyed the King’s bodyguards behind him but didn't step back, fixing her eyes again on T’Challa’s calm gaze. 

“I can get them out. I did it before with Steve, I can do it again, alone if I have to. No one will know of any links back to Wakanda.”

“You cannot.”

“And _why_ is that? Your Majesty.”

“The Raft is no longer where it was a few days ago.”

Clint’s eyes bugged out, and even Steve looked surprised. Natasha started readjusting her plans.

“What do you mean it’s no longer where it was?” Sam asked. “They can’t just pick it up and put it somewhere else.”

“In fact, it appears they can,” T'Challa replied. “Ross was being uncooperative, but I have other resources. All our imaging shows that the mass where the Raft was two days ago is now missing.”

“The prison is _missing_ ,” Scott gaped at the King. “That giant, metal-”

“Yes, and I believe I know how. I reached out to another source, and they retrieved full schematics of the prison. Not just the holding area and security systems that you had, Agent Romanov.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes at that, suspicious as to who could get that kind of information. It had been difficult enough prying those blueprints from Ross’s files, she’d only had time to copy plans for theessential areas. She expected bulked up security and tricked out surveillance measures after the first break in, but to have up and disappeared a whole facility like that in two days… Was there something she’d missed? And how had T'Challa gotten a hold of complete schematics so quickly?

“Who gave you those-”

“How have they moved the Raft?” Steve asked, interrupting Natasha’s question with his own. 

She shot him a glare - she knew he was still hiding something about Siberia - but kept quiet, interested in the answer herself.

“The Raft was kept underwater and anchored to the seafloor,” T'Challa explained, pulling up the schematics on a screen. “See here? This locking mechanism at the bottom. It forms a part of the pulley system that lifts and drops the facility and is the only part of the facility actually fixed to the seafloor. I thought at first this was due to its construction, building the anchor and the prison separately to then be locked together later. But, look…”

Steve peered closer at the screen to where T’Challa was pointing. 

“Are those… propellors?”

“Yes,” T'Challa said. “They’re quite well hidden.”

Natasha’s stomach dropped. 

“It’s a submarine.”

“It’s a submarine with some of the best stealth technology on the market,” T'Challa corrected Steve, face grave. “It appears that someone had a key to the lock mechanism, and detached the facility soon after your prison break.”

“Can we find it?” Steve asked, brow pinched.

“Not easily. It will take some time.”

Natasha stepped forward, “Who gave you these schematics?”

T'Challa locked eyes with her for a moment before speaking. “Vision.”

“Vision?” Clint blinked in surprise.

“Yes. I called him earlier to ascertain how and when Mr Stark had been taken,” T'Challa explained. “He had not heard from Mr Stark since he left to see all of you on the Raft. Afterwards, his AI informed Vision that Mr Stark was heading to an undisclosed location.” He shot a glance at Steve, who was looking paler with every word. “Siberia, presumably.”

“Red Skull picked up Stark from Siberia?” Sam frowned.

Steve was white as snow, and Barnes looked disturbed, all of which concerned Natasha greatly. Tony wasn't the type to ‘go quietly’. If Red Skull had tried to take Tony, he’d have fought them, Natasha had no doubts. He’d have fought, blown things up, brought a mountain down if he had to, Tony wouldn't give up.

Of course, there was always the possibility that Tony had been in no state to fight them off.

Hurt and rage roiled in Natasha’s heart as she stared at Steve, the image of that deep curved bruise on Tony’s chest burned into her mind.

He didn't meet her eyes.

He couldn't lift his gaze away from the blueprints.

“Vision is working with Mr Stark’s AI in tracking down the Raft,” T’Challa pressed on. “I will be doing the same from my end. I will leave it to you to plan the extraction. Vision could only provide a rough estimate of the upgraded security facilities, so I would practise caution.”

He slid the blueprints to Steve, but Natasha snatched them away before he could touch them. Not that Steve had made a move to take them. He’d slumped back a little into Barnes’ space.

T'Challa stood tall, “I will call a meeting when I have a location.”

* * *

**_1995_ **

It had been hard not to be jealous of him at first when they were young and Tony younger still, and he was already running circles around them with his intellect. But Mary had learned to rein in the envy and just enjoy the sheer mad genius that Tony’s mind came up with, sometimes lucky enough to collaborate. He loved working together.

That’s why Mary knew a lot of the grudge Tony held against Richard had to do with feeling replaced, sidelined, on top of the same protective feelings Michael and Dad were having. _Idiots._

Luckily, Richard was a patient man and seemed more amused by Tony’s ill will. It was funny to watch sometimes, the barely concealed suspicion in Tony’s every look and word at the man who was trying to steal Mary away. 

But she wasn't going to put up with it tonight.

Mary saw her chance when Tony grumped off to the kitchen for more champagne. She pressed a kiss to Richard’s cheek and noted how everyone was enthralled with his telling of the proposal _again_. Mom seemed to have forgotten already. 

Mary ducked out into the kitchen. He had his back to her, and Mary prepared herself to tell Tony off about his bad mood ruining her special night. 

But then he turned his head and Mary realised she was wrong.

Tony didn't have the perpetual frown and narrow eyes like whenever he was around Richard. He didn't seem angry, or frustrated, or jealous.

Tony seemed… sad.

Anger entirely squashed, Mary joined Tony at the counter. He was studiously focused on the bottle in his hands. Reaching out, admiring the diamond on her finger, Mary poked his side. The reaction was bigger than she expected, Tony jumping back from her.

“Nothing!”

That was not a usual response. Even for him. 

“Tony? Are you alright?”

“Always,” Tony quipped, teeth gleaming in that bright smile that Mary hated, the stupid face he pasted on for the cameras, all dazzle and no warmth. “I was just admiring the bottle, I don't think I’ve drunk anything so cheap since I roomed with Rhodey-”

“ _Tony_ , what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. You're getting married. _Yay!_ That’s great, even to that Dick-”

“Don’t bullshit me, Stark,” Mary snapped, knowing better than to let Tony get into his stride. Michael might indulge him, but Mary rarely let Tony get away the same amount. “What’s wrong?”

Tony looked down at the bottle in his hands. Mary felt a pang of hurt at a new thought.

“Are you… do you really not approve of Richard and I getting-”

“Woah! _What?_ No!” Tony nearly dropped the champagne setting it down in order to flail with his whole body at her. “No, Mary, it’s not that. I might think he’s an actual Dick half the time, but I know he makes you happy. I’m- I'm really happy for you. Really.”

Relieved, Mary stepped closer, nudging Tony away from the counter to pull him into a hug. He wrapped a lock of her hair around his fingers, as he always had done. It brought a smile to Mary’s face. “So what’s bothering you then?”

Tony said nothing, but Mary was patient.

“I… I won’t be able to go to your wedding. Will I?”

 _Ah_. Yes, that was something Mary had been trying not to think about yet. 

Her work with the CIA, along with Richard’s, not to mention the added weight behind the Carter and Sousa name in certain circles, meant a high threat level to them all. As a result, Mary had changed her name, and made efforts for years now not to associate publicly with her family, a decision that broke her heart but kept her loved ones safe.

And the one she’d had to distance herself from the most had to be, of course, Tony.

Technically, she shouldn't have even told Tony where she worked, but he _was_ family to her damnit, so that meant he had a right to know. But the intense public scrutiny on his life was too big a risk to him and Mary if dangerous people realised their connection. They could be used against each other. It was something they couldn't let happen.In this family of spies, Mary had grown up intimate with such sacrifices.

It didn't mean it made her happy. But the work she did, it was important, too important to put her own happiness ahead of the greater good.

Mary buried her face in Tony’s shoulder, “You won’t be the only one missing out. I think only Mom and Dad will be able to since they’re retired now.”

He grumbled into her shoulder for a minute before-

“I’ll pay. For everything. I’ll even do it anonymously!”

“Tony-”

“It’s not like I don't have enough to spare. Think of it as a wedding gift.” Tony shrugged, “I can’t be there physically, but I can do this for you. Let me do this for you. Please, Mary.”

Mary frowned, but bundled him closer, planting a kiss on his forehead, “Fine. But you know I’d take you over your money at the wedding any day.”

“I know,” Tony chuckled, pulling away, a smile on his face, but his eyes still sad. 

“I’m introducing you to Richard’s brother and his wife,” Mary said firmly. “They know about the CIA business, but we were planning on telling them the truth about our family, _which includes you Stark_. And we’ll film the ceremony. It’s not the same, but-”

“I’ll take it.”

Mary sighed, a dissatisfied pout on her face until Tony poked it away.

“So,” he said, the first twinkle of his usual humour lighting in his eyes. “Are you taking his name? Because I'm sorry, gorgeous, but your cover name is _awful_.”

“It’s not that bad!”

Tony sniggered.

“… But I do think Richard’s name sounds better.”

Tony raised the bottle of champagne, “To the future Dick and Mary Parker.”

“ _Richard_ and Mary Parker.”

“Still a dick.”

* * *

**_2016_ **

Sharon held a scrap of material under the tap again, before she wrung out the excess water. The water dripped pink into the basin, the cloth staining pink too, but Sharon couldn't spare any more material to wash Tony’s injuries. There were only a few clean pieces of the spare scrubs left to use now, after bandaging up his chest. 

Wiping her sweaty forehead with a wrist, Sharon turned back to the cot, singing quietly as she went. Old lullabies had come back to her, from foggy memories. Sitting on the edge of the cot, she dabbed at Tony’s face, gently cleaning away the dried smears of blood around his cuts. 

“ _Fa la ninna, fa la nanna_ …”

In her own mind, Sharon could admit to herself she was panicking. It was very controlled, Sharon refused to let the guards outside or Red Skull realise the true extent of her panic, her helplessness, her fear right now. She wouldn't give them that.

But all that was also a distant thing, beyond a numb haze that had settled around her, stopping her feeling the true weight of all that had happened. All that was still _happening_. Sharon hadn't processed the divide in the superhero community, and she doubted the rest of the world had either, and they were running on much less information. 

That was what she needed right now. Information. Facts to work with. Truths.

That, and for Tony to open his stupidly big brown eyes and tell her everything was going to be okay.

“ _Nella braccia della mamma_ …”

Sharon went to rinse out the rag again, pretending her fingers weren't staining pink too. Really, a lullaby was the last thing needed to encourage Tony to wake up. But it might bring him some comfort, she thought. _It might bring me some comfort_ , pretending it was just Tony visiting for a night and volunteering to put Sharon to bed with a song.

“ _Fa la ninna bel bambin_ …”

Her voice wasn't as smooth as Tony’s. He sang quite beautifully, actually, though he so rarely did now. 

Sharon dropped the rag in the basin, head hanging low and grabbing at the rim of the sink to hide the shaking of her hands. She’d fixed Tony as well as she could. _Breathe, Sharon, deep breaths_. There was nothing else she could do now.

“ _Fa la nanna bambin bel…_ ”

Pushing the song past her lips forced her lungs to work, the words wobbling slightly in the air.

Sharon was afraid.

She was afraid of what was going to happen next. 

Red Skull, that was no small matter. And to have wormed his into such a high position - Secretary of _fucking_ Defence - whatever his plans, they’d been in the works for years now. 

That was Hydra’s speciality though, the long game.

And Red Skull was dangerous in ways Ross wasn't, mostly because she didn't know him. Sharon had heard the stories, everyone had, but the actual man that was the monster, no one knew him. No one knew what motivated him, what created him, what drove him.

Okay, yes, the subjugation and control of the world by Hydra.

But _why_?

If you didn't dig out the root, you couldn't ever be rid of the weed. And Sharon wanted desperately for this particular evil to never take root in the world again. 

They must have all played into his hands, but how had Red Skull known them well enough to predict their actions like that? How could he have known what buttons to push to drive such a deep rift between Tony and Steve as he had with the Accords? And Sharon didn't doubt it had been him behind the Accords. Ross was too impulsive and temperamental to have planned that UN-sanctioned bomb so perfectly like that. And he wasn't Hydra, though Sharon wasn't surprised he was willing to work with the evil organisation in pursuit of his own ambitions.

Red Skull was temperamental too, but he planned meticulously, and - more frighteningly - he seemed to have planned more accurately.

Sharon couldn't help feeling they were playing a game of chess that had been rigged from the start, and no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't seem to outmanoeuvre him. Not fast enough before another rug got pulled out from under them, and sent them all falling on their asses looking for someone to blame. 

_SHIELD is Hydra. Bucky Barnes is the Winter Soldier. Red Skull is alive. Red Skull is the SecDef._

Sharon wondered what the next big revelation would be. 

“ _Fa la ninna, fa la nanna-_ ”

“ _Nella braccia della mamma_.”

Sharon’s head shot up at the other voice singing. A rough, broken tone to the voice, but so so familiar. She turned to the bed, and saw the smallest slits of shining brown eyes.

She could feel the numb haze lifting from her, everything falling onto her like a tidal wave. Her hands were shaking again, lips trembling and eyes stinging.

“Hey.”

She wouldn't cry. She _wouldn’t_. 

Tony’s mouth softened, and he lifted his right hand to her. 

“C’mere.”

Agent 13 wouldn't cry.

Sharon Carter didn't hesitate to fall into Tony’s arms as he sang to her again, trusting in him to hold her together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow you guys! Over 100 kudos and over 1000 hits in the first 24hrs after I posted the first chapter!!!
> 
> Just wanted to say a big thank you, this was such a boost :)


	3. Daniel

**_1996_ **

Daniel limped his way down the stairs, already dreading what he’d find at the bottom. He couldn't make himself hurry up, but he wouldn't allow himself to slow down. When he reached the bottom, he input the code Peggy had given him and watched the locks hiss as the door slid open. 

The workshop was a mess.

And in the middle, leaning up against the robotic arm he’d created, was Tony. 

Slumped over, with a computer keyboard in his hands and his eyes closed, Daniel thought at first Tony was asleep. But at the first noise from his crutch, those eyes opened, and Daniel found himself on the receiving end of sad liquid brown eyes. 

A sudden electronic voice broke the silence.

“Identified: Sousa, Daniel A. Retired Chief of the New York branch of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division-”

“ _Jesus H Christ!_ ”

“Sounds a little like him, doesn't it?” Tony croaked. Daniel was clutching his chest, that voice had given him shivers. “Not exactly, but I'm still tweaking the voice mod-”

“Tony, what was that?”

“That was _Just A Rather Very Intelligent System_ ,” Tony said, a sad smile on his lips. “Or _JARVIS_ , for short.”

Daniel’s heart broke, and his knuckles turned white grasping his crutch.

“He’s not finished yet, but it’s not bad for a few days work. Based him off of DUM-E’s code, but with improvements,” Tony explained, fingers clacking on the keyboard in his lap. Several screens lit up around him, casting gaunt shadows across his face. “He’s all software. Gonna be the brains to DUM-E’s brawn, right buddy?”

“Oh, Tony…”

“I’ve just- I’ve just got to get the voice right first. But he can tell you the time already! JARVIS, what’s the time?”

“The time is 5:37 pm EST, Unit: Creator.”

“Tony,” Daniel moved closer, reaching out a hand to him. Tony batted it away. It didn't stop Daniel. He dropped his crutch and sat on the cold concrete with creaking limbs, reaching out to Tony again. 

“Gotta change that,” Tony sniffed, wiping at his face with his arms. “Don’t think I like being called that. S’not my style.”

Daniel caught him by the shoulders and dragged him close, Tony fighting him half-heartedly as he was pulled into a hug. “Tony, you can’t- you have to let him go.”

“No,” Tony snapped. “No, this isn’t- this isn't _him_ , it’s a- he’s mine. I made him, I keep him.”

“Tony-”

“Danny, _please_ ,” Tony hiccuped, he hadn't let go of the keyboard. “Let me keep him.”

Daniel closed his eyes at his own tears, his own grief, and gave a rough nod. Tony pressed closer to him. “So,” Daniel cleared his throat, “What is it? Him?”

“I am _Just A Rather-_ ”

“Pal, I think you’re gonna have to take the nickname.” Daniel’s heart wrenched at the half-familiar voice.

“Nickname?”

Tony perked up slightly, staring at a screen in faint awe. “He asked a question.”

“Is that good?”

“He’s an AI,” Tony said, eyes blinking heavily. “People said I couldn't do it. He’s mine. I did it.”

Daniel sighed, “You sure did, Tony.”

It was terrible how the worst and most devastating situations were the ones that really made Tony create his greatest marvels. Daniel thought it was a way for Tony to remove his brain from whatever was hurting him. It worked only as long as it took to create though. 

“Gonna add some… extra memory…” Tony snored wheezily in his arms. 

Daniel would have to tell Peggy she’d been right to worry, but later. For now, he’d sit and see how well JARVIS could carry a conversation, a;; while DUM-E trundled around them on his new wheels.

* * *

**_2016_ **

Somebody was singing. 

Or maybe, more accurately, someone was speaking tunefully. 

But Tony had no complaints. It was a nice sounding voice, if not quite hitting all the right notes, and the melody was soothing even while the words were too murky for him to distinguish.

There was also something cool and wet dabbing Tony’s face.

That was nice too.

Everything else was fucking awful.

His head hurt, his face hurt, his chest _really_ hurt, and his left hand was pure agony.

But Tony could push that to one side, he was used to pain, he had enough space in his brain to focus elsewhere, and elsewhere someone was singing, and that was nice. Tony ought to thank them. Hire them maybe.

“ _… fa la nanna…_ ”

They could sing for Tony. No one sang for Tony anymore. Not since-

It was like a stab through the heart, recalling everything, cutting through the peace from the music, hurting more than his chest. The airport- 

Siberia- 

his Dad, _help my wife, please, help her_ - 

his Mom, _oh god not my mother not mamma_ - 

the look in Rogers’ eyes as he’d held up the shield, _he’s my friend_ - 

 _did you know?_ _did you know? Rogersdidyouknow? don’t bullshit me-_

And then, after the cold, there had been rough hands and questions barked at him, and _no, I refuse, go fuck yourself, I’ll tell you nothing-_

That song smelled like his mother’s honeysuckle perfume, and felt like a hand rubbing his head and a kiss on his cheek, and looked like the soft glow of the Captain America nightlight as he’d been tucked into bed.

“ _… bel bambin…”_

Tony wanted to scream at the song, it was both painful and a balm.

Because it would never not hurt to think of his mother, but it would be impossible to forget her.

Those golden times she’d sung him to sleep, less and less as the years went by, too quick for his liking. 

“ _… fa la nanna bambin…_ ”

And now Tony was mourning her loss all over again. And of Dad. And the Avengers. And-

Tony grasped at the words and clawed his way out of his memories and the darkness. His eyes only opened a tiny bit, but it felt like being blinded after the blackness he was escaping from. 

“ _…fa la ninna…_ ”

Following the source of the voice, Tony thought at first he was seeing an angel bathed in the blinding light. Of course, when his eyes adjusted and he saw who it was, Tony realised it was even better than an angel. 

For her to be singing this song out in the open like that, it had Tony’s mind racing, calling up the last few minutes before he’d succumbed to the darkness before. This was no place to give such tells, to reveal such carefully protected parts of themselves. This was a place of enemies, of pain, of betrayal, of-

But, bottom line, he trusted her. If she was singing, either Tony was wrong about the environment, or there was no more use in hiding. 

If she was singing, he could too.

He managed to pull up the strength to croak out the next line of the song, a few other words too, and then he found himself with a mouthful of blonde hair. Not that it bothered him enough to push her away. Tony just held her and kept singing.

* * *

**_1979_ **

It was in Daniel’s personal opinion that Howard had left having a child too late. 

Not that Peggy and he hadn't put off that decision themselves for a long time. Long enough for people to whisper nasty things about his injury affecting his _performance_ , or Peggy being too devoted to her work. It had been a mutual decision, that the family they wanted would have to wait until _both_ their work lives were more stable (were _safer_ ) and until they were more prepared. 

Any child, even a Stark child, could be a genius, but they would still start off as a baby that needed more than intellectual conversation to flourish. And Howard loved Tony - in his own way - but he had such a terrible time trying to show it when he remembered. 

There was so much Tony needed from Howard at this point in his life that Howard was liable to miss. He was so stuck in the past and his search for Captain America, as well as the future and the technologies that awaited him, that he was missing Tony, who was very much growing up in the present. 

Daniel feared it would warp into resentment in Tony, and he couldn't bear the thought of the sweet little boy becoming so jaded and bitter about the past as his father was now. The years had taken their toll on him, Howard’s hair more salt than pepper now.

“Please,” Howard said, tone rushed. “Just for a few hours. Obie says I _have_ to be at this board meeting, I can’t miss it, or they’ll cut the funding to the Arctic expeditions.”

“Of course,” Daniel said readily.

“It’s just that Maria’s at one of her events, and Jarvis is visiting family-”

“It’s okay-”

“And I can’t find his goddamn nanny, I think she’s off sick, of all days-”

“Howard!” Daniel raised his voice, amused and exasperated. “I’ve already said yes.”

He blinked, “Ah, yes, right. Thanks.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Daniel said, looking down at the boy beside him. 

Tony didn't look up. Daniel knew how excited Tony had been about an afternoon with his father. He himself had been looking forward to a quiet day off work, but spending time with Tony was no hardship. 

“We’ll have some fun, yeah?”

Tony nodded, and Howard looked at him properly for the first time since arriving.

“Don’t be any trouble, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

Daniel bit back a sigh as Tony leaned sadly into his side, head bowed. 

A look of regret crossed Howard’s face. Daniel knew Howard wasn't malicious by nature, if somewhat ignorant and self-absorbed. He was actually very affectionate sometimes. After all his years of philandering, he’d fallen for Maria after all, and he was devoted to her, their relationship genuine and surprisingly tender. And they were happy. 

But… there had been pressure, _expectations_ , placed on the couple, especially with the legacy of Stark Industries. So, they'd had Tony. And they did love him, Daniel had seen. They just weren't made to be _parents_ , it wasn't how they functioned. Howard, in particular, had difficulty relating to people outside of adult relationships. Daniel imagined they’d have been perfectly happy if Tony had never happened.

Since he did though, there was a vast gulf between parent and child filled with issues, both sides loving the other with no clue how to make a connection that wasn't hit-or-miss. It made Daniel want to scream sometimes.

Howard shuffled on his feet, “If… If you're good, maybe you can work on something with me in the shop. The Roadster, maybe.”

Tony eyes went huge, “Really?”

Howard brusquely patted Tony on the head, “If you're good.”

 _God_ , it hurt almost as much to watch him try as it did to see when Howard overlooked an opportunity. He offered a final ‘Thanks pal’ to Daniel before heading out of the door. Tony slumped a little, but he didn't look too disappointed. 

“C’mon,” Daniel nudged him into the house. “It’s just us, and as Peg’s not here to give us _the Look_ , what say we have a day of ice cream and fort-building?”

Tony took his hand with a worried pout, “Is your leg hurting again, Uncle Danny?”

Daniel’s heart warmed at his concern, “A little, buddy. You alright to spend the day inside?”

Tony nodded, chest puffing forward, “You get the ice cream. I’ll make the plans!”

He ran off to the living room, and Daniel limped to the kitchen. They had a fun day ahead.

“Don’t forget the sprinkles!”

* * *

**_2016_ **

“Oh god, am I squashing you?” Sharon pulled out of Tony’s arms with a sniffle. Her cheeks were dry, her nose was not. “Your chest-”

“M’fine,” Tony hushed her. “You didn't hurt me.”

Sharon bit her lip, kneeling by the bed. “How- how much do you remember?”

“Are you asking if I saw our cherry-faced captor? Because the answer to that is yes.”

“You’ve seen Red Skull.” Sharon didn't know if she was relieved that she hadn't been hallucinating that encounter, or upset because that made him _real_.

“You weren’t around, last time I was awake,” Tony suddenly realised, blinking rapidly. “How are you here?”

“They snatched me off the street.”

“Boring.”

“Into a van.”

“Cliche.”

“With tranq darts.”

“Plebeians,” Tony sighed exaggeratedly, his antics pulling a tiny smile from Sharon. “You alright?”

Sharon nodded, “ _I’m_ ok.”

“Said m’fine.”

“Tony,” Sharon huffed, reaching out to trace his black eye. Tony leaned into the gentle touch, closing his eyes. He looked exhausted.

With his eyes closed, an expression of grief painting his face. Sharon didn't remember Tony ever looking this defeated before. Whatever Tony had gone through, it couldn't be good. Sharon felt anxious waiting for him to speak.

But he didn’t. 

Tony just lay there, his brow pinched and lips downturned.

Sharon didn't want to push him, but she needed to know. She needed the information, so they could both figure out what their next step was together. They had to get out of here. 

“Red Skull… he said Steve… Tony, did Steve…”

He let out a long sigh, opening his eyes to look at her. He didn't say anything, but then, Tony didn't have to for Sharon to understand. She shook her head, her eyes burning worse than before. Sharon clapped a hand over her mouth, and she wasn't sure if it was to hold back a sob or to stop herself throwing up.

“Hey, hey, sweetpea,” Tony reached up with a grunt, grabbing her hand. “No, c’mon, I'm okay-”

“ _Look at you_ ,” Sharon hissed. She looked away, she couldn't look at the damage on Tony’s face. “I- I gave him back his shield.”

“This was definitely _not_ your fault.”

“If I hadn’t-”

“Sharon,” Tony stopped her, gaze heavy. “I wasn't exactly helpless, I got a hit or two in as well. You are not to blame for these scratches.”

“Those are more than scratches.”

Tony shrugged, and Sharon hated how he would just accept his injuries like that. How often had the world beaten him down that he had become used to it? It wasn't fair.

She had to keep pushing. She had to _know_. Sharon wasn't sure if it was something in her blood driving her, to pursue whatever had hurt Tony. Or her training, needing a sitrep to feel more in control of the situation. Or if it was that pit in her stomach that needed to be satisfied in knowing whether or not she was guilty, because god knows Tony wouldn't tell Sharon she was guilty, even if she’d held the shield herself. She just had to _know_.

“What happened?” Sharon could hardly bare whispering the question. “Why did Steve…”

So, he told her. Because Tony had never denied her a thing. Not his time, or his attention, or her slightest fancy. It was a dangerous power. 

Sharon had prided herself on not taking advantage unless it was for Tony’s own good - _getting him out of the house, getting him to put down that drink, getting him to just go to bed_ \- she’d been warned off using him like that as a child, and taken it to heart, becoming more protective of him if anything. But, even if she had never used it, Sharon knew Tony would never deny her.

She wasn't proud using that power now. She couldn't make herself stop Tony talking though.

Sharon listened, mute, as Tony told what happened. 

His voice was hollow, but Tony could still be so enchanting for an audience. Even the guards outside had drifted closer to the glass to listen.

Siberia. Dead Winter Soldiers. Zemo and his obsession. A video. 

A fight. 

 _God_ , Sharon barely remembered more than impressions of Howard and Maria, too young at their passing, but she couldn't imagine what Tony had felt when he’d seen that video. Their deaths, there was no other way of putting it, their deaths had _haunted_ Tony for the rest of his life.

Missed chances, bitter-sharp last words, another not-hug, a last look, a last touch. 

“I shouldn't have done that,” Tony said slowly, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, almost crushing Sharon’s hand in his good one. “I- it wasn't right. Barnes was, he, Barnes was just another victim. I forgot. I didn't care. I lost control.”

“I know,” Sharon held his hand back just as tight. “I know, but after you’d just seen- Tony, that would have destroyed anyone’s control-”

“I just wanted to hurt him,” Tony wheezed. Tears clung to his lashes, and his breaths were whistling as he started to hyperventilate. “I wanted him to feel what they-”

“Tony, shh, breathe-”

“He said he remembered, and I-”

“ _Breathe_ , Tony, please-”

“He knew,” Tony gasped, eyes scrunched shut. “He knew. He knew and hadn't told me.”

 _What?_ Sharon was lost. “How would Barnes tell you-”

“Not Barnes.”

 _No_.

Because it hadn't been Tony and Barnes alone in the confrontation. Sharon had almost forgotten, but not really, how could anyone forget him. Family history had only proven he was impossible to forget.

A tear finally fell down Tony’s face.

“Rogers knew.”

* * *

**_1990_ **

“She’s never going to go to bed if you keep making silly faces at her.”

“But she’s so adorable.”Tony didn't even try to stop making those silly faces, no hint of apology in his face.

“You’re going to make her cranky.”

“Never,” Tony said confidently, beaming at the giggle to another of his faces. “Sharon adores me, she’d never be cranky with me.”

Daniel sighed, scrubbing at his face. Unfortunately, that was true. That would just mean that she’d be cranky with someone else though. He’d have to try another tactic, he should have known Tony wouldn't crack so easily.

“If little girls don't go to bed on time, they could end up on Santa’s naughty list,” Daniel sing-songed, enjoying the betrayed look on Tony’s face. “Santa only visits good girls.”

Sharon’s gasp was hilariously horrified.

Tony turned her to face him again, “Don’t listen to him, you're the best girl, and you can have all the presents from me, better presents- _mmpf!_ ”

Sharon had slapped a hand over Tony’s motormouth, and Daniel had to bite his lip at the expressions on both their faces. 

“Santa!”

“It’s not Christmas yet, sweetpea, I promise-”

“ _Santa_!”

Daniel knew Sharon still didn't quite grasp the whole Santaand Christmas thing yet, but Santa’s name had been said often enough with the word ‘present’, and that was a word Sharon understood well. Mainly due to Tony. Whenever he could sneak away to see her, he’d be sure to bring Sharon a little something too, doting on her worse than Daniel ever did with kids, (no matter what Peggy said). 

“I go bed,” Sharon demanded, her eyes already closed, arms raised up to Tony. “Good girl.”

Tony knew his game was over for the night, but he didn't look unhappy. “The _best_ girl,” he said with a kiss, as he picked her up and carried her off to her bed.

Daniel settled back on the sofa. They were spending Christmas at Fifth Avenue this year.He felt warm at the full house, even if Howard and Maria were leaving for Venezuela tomorrow. Tony had been the last to arrive, but he had chosen to spend his winter break with the others at the Mansion. Daniel was secretly very pleased. He’d missed him off at college, for all that it wasn't very far. 

Tony clomped back soon enough, throwing himself on the sofa next to Daniel, unashamedly pressing into his side and nudging until Tony could tuck his head under his. Daniel only wrapped an arm around the teenager and enjoyed a rare quiet moment together.

It didn't last with Tony though.

“A boy kissed me.”

“Oh?”

Daniel was expecting Tony to elaborate, but the boy remained quiet. When he looked down, Tony was deliberately avoiding his eyes, biting his mouth but holding tight to Daniel’s sweater.

Cold washed through him at a sudden, horrid thought. _Had someone forced themselves on Tony, alone and young and away from home and family?_ The thought fuelled a rage through Daniel that he hadn't felt for a long time. If someone had taken advantage of his boy, had touched him or- or- had anything to Tony, Daniel would march down to that campus, bum leg and all, and shove his crutch up the ass of _whoever dared_ -

“I kissed him back.”

Daniel nearly gave himself whiplash turning to stare at Tony again. 

He still wasn't looking at Daniel, but Tony was getting tenser by the second. He knew he had to proceed carefully in this conversation.

“Did you-” Daniel cleared his throat again. “Did you want to kiss this boy?”

Tony nodded his head, a quick sharp thing.

“Do you like him?”

“I dunno,” Tony said, too casually. “Is that alright?”

“Liking a boy?”

He nodded again.

Daniel almost deflated in relief, gathering Tony closer in a proper hug and ignoring how tense Tony was still. “Yes. Tony, of course, that’s fine. It’s up to you who you like.” He felt the way Tony melted into the hug at that. _Silly boy_. “Just, tell me no one made you do anything you didn't want to do.”

“No! No, I wanted to kiss him.”

“Good, that’s fine then,” Daniel sighed, pressing a kiss to dark curls. “As long as you're happy. And safe.”

There was a brief silence again, and Daniel was the one to break it this time.

“Do your parents-”

“I haven’t told them yet. I still like girls,” Tony admitted into Daniel’s sweater. “I haven’t told anyone.”

“Well then,” Daniel blinked rapidly, feeling touched. “Thank you for telling me.”

Tony shrugged, a careless gesture that hid how important this moment was to them both. Daniel let it go, hugging Tony as he enjoyed the twinkling lights on the monstrous Christmas tree Howard had bought.

* * *

**_2016_ **

“You knew too, Natasha!” Steve yelled, hand covering the red mark on his face from her fist. “I wasn't the only one who-”

“It’s different with me,” Natasha shot back, pushing against Clint’s hold of her. “Stark never fully trusted me until I put my name on those Accords. _You_ he trusted. If I’d told Stark, he’d have gone after Barnes and killed him.”

“Tony _did_ try to-”

“If _you’d_ told him,” Natasha continued over him. “Before everything, when he still considered you friends. If you’d have told him, of how your best friend was broken and twisted by an evil we had just rediscovered, how he’d been forced to hurt, to _kill_ , how he remembered and regretted, this might never have happened, Steve! Stark is impulsive, he’s not unreasonable.”

“He tried to kill him, Nat.”

“How did you expect him to react? Instead of learning that news in private, safe, with friends, he was forced through his revelations in front of his parents’ murderer-”

Steve growled, a terrible glare on his face as he stuck up his bruising chin, “It wasn't his fault-”

“ _That is not the point!_ ”

“Okay, let’s everybody take a breath,” Sam quickly slid between them. 

Clint thought the man either had the biggest balls or had an actual bird brain to stand between Nat and Steve looking as furious as they did right now. They looked seconds from ripping each other apart, and that wasn't good. Wanda was getting twitchy.

The moment Stark had mentioned Siberia, trying to work on the extraction plan had become a lost cause. Steve had stared at the screen with a haunted expression, while Bucky had curled tighter in his seat, reaching up to touch his metal stump. 

Natasha had looked more and more… dangerous wasn't even a strong enough word, but Clint didn't know how else to describe it. 

When Stark had started hyperventilating about his memories, Natasha had leapt clear over the table and clocked Steve across the face before anyone else had so much as twitched. She’d been getting her thighs locked around his neck when Clint and Sam had dragged her off of Steve. 

Most damningly, Steve hadn't fought her back.

At least until she’d mentioned Bucky.

Then all bets were off, as everyone was learning with Steve.

Natasha shrugged Clint off, stepping up to glare at Steve over Sam’s shoulder. Sam, admirably, didn't look any more nervous. (Clint wouldn't mention the sweat beading at Sam’s temple.)

“It doesn't matter if Barnes wanted to or not, whether he chose to kill the Starks, or any of his other kills or not, _that is not the point_. He did it. He did it, Steve, nothing you say will change that. You denying it’s his fault doesn't take away the guilt Barnes feels, or the pain the victims feel. It’s insolent, Steve. I mean-” 

Natasha flung a hand to Bucky, still sat to the side, narrowly avoiding hitting Sam. Clint wasn't sure that was an accident.

“Look at him!” Natasha didn't take her eyes off of Steve. “Sticking your fingers in your ears, you're denying Barnes his right to how he feels. You're telling him it’s not his fault, begging him to forgive himself, but you won’t _let him process_.”

Steve glared mulishly back at her, “It’s _not_ his fault.”

Natasha nearly tackled Sam with a roar, but Clint caught her around the waist. If Natasha didn't like him as much as she did, Clint knew he’d be sporting more than bruised shins and a clip from her elbow right now.

“You still aren't LISTENING!”

Steve opened his mouth, that stubborn tilt to his brow, and Clint nearly cried. This was going nowhere, and if someone didn't back down, there would be blood spilt and some of it would be Clint’s, he just knew it.

“What did you mean?”

All eyes turned to Scott, and Clint swore he literally shrunk a little.

But, though he gulped at the dark look in Natasha’s eyes, Scott pushed on. “Before. About Stark not trusting you until you signed… I thought you didn't support the Accords? You're here with us.”

Natasha squinted at him, “The Accords were a complicated situation. One that no one _here_ ,” she shot a look of venom at Steve. “Bothered to dissect.”

“The Accords would've tied our hands when we needed-”

Sam waved a hand behind at Steve, looking at Natasha, “Hang on, what do you-”

“-they would have killed Bucky and locked up Wan-”

“Steve! Shut up a minute!” Sam barked, but rested a reassuring hand on Steve’s shoulder that worked better than words at getting him to quiet down. 

Sam was still focused on Natasha. 

“What was there to dissect, Nat? The Accords… they were _bad_ , they were gonna tie a leash on all of us and use us as attack dogs. I mean, _Ross_ brought it to us. After Banner’s history with him, and now with Red Skull, you don't actually _agree_ with the Accords, do you?”

Natasha was still spitting fire at Steve with her eyes, but Clint was relieved to see her collecting herself again, now that someone was talking to her calmly and not pressing on her surprisingly big soft spot labelled ‘Stark’. _Thank fuck for Sam._  

“Of course the Accords as Ross presented them were bad - but they weren't even the worst that had been on the table,” Natasha finished before Steve could start looking superior. She shook her head at him, “You’re so stuck in your ‘man out of time’ ways that you've isolated yourself from how the world works now, Steve. You say no to the Accords, you think they’ll just go away? That doesn't happen. Even you don't have that influence. Running off solved nothing - they're still there, they’ll still be executed, only now you aren't at the table to have any say on how they’ll go.”

“I know how bad they’ll-”

“You have _no_ _idea_.”

There was a chill to Natasha’s statement that Clint wasn't used to. A chill of fear. _What was so bad that it frightened Nat?_ Clint wasn't sure he wanted to know. He was getting a really bad feeling in his gut.

Sam seemed to feel the same way. “How bad?”

Natasha looked away, out of the window at the lush Wakandan jungle outside. “I didn't find out until I left, I didn't _know_ , but I suspected from the moment Stark signed. I knew after reading those Accords that it was the last thing Stark would have done.” 

She shook her head, Clint wondered at this friendship, this trust, that had bloomed between Natasha and Stark that he hadn't seemed to notice. _What else had he missed?_

“After Ultron, Stark left the team, and we all left the fallout to him- _yes we did, Steve_! We left it to him because we blamed him, but he wasn't the only one at fault.” Natasha cast accusing eyes to Wanda, and the girl looked quickly away from her. Clint wondered what she knew, what Stark had told her. “It put him under a lot of scrutiny, but it also put Stark right in the middle when there were talks like the Accords. He was there as they were formed. Honestly, Steve, he was the best informed of all of us on the Accords. I knew that, and despite our history, I trusted him. So I signed.”

Steve looked disappointed, “You signed for Stark-”

“I signed because of Stark. And Wilson, Clint and Maximoff _didn't_ sign because of _you_. Don’t pretend that anyone here made an objective decision about this. Least of all you!”

Bucky was the one to pull Steve back this time, sitting him on his ass next to him.

Natasha shook her head, “Ross didn't deliver the Accords personally just to see our faces. It was a warning. From that moment, from who knows how long before, we’d be under special surveillance.”

Clint couldn't help his eyes checking the usual spots for bugs at that, before he remembered they were in Wakanda, safe from the reach of Ross and Red Skull. _Right?_

“He’d had access to the compound, to our _home_ ,” Natasha spat. “Ross would've taken it for the opportunity it was. Stark knew we couldn't speak freely, and he still risked warning us.” 

Steve looked confused. Clint was a little relieved not to be the only one.

Natasha huffed, “ _If we don't do this now, it’s going to be done to us later_.”

Sam obviously recognised the words, though Clint was still lost. 

Steve looked like he remembered too if the pained look was anything to go by. “But you left him.”

“I did,” Natasha admitted. “My leaving was carefully calculated.”

“What do you mean by that?” Wanda asked, red magic sparking at her fingertips. 

Steve joined Wanda, an appalled look on his face, “Are you spying on us?”

Natasha locked eyes on Steve again, patience spent, and Clint felt a shiver crawl down his spine. Oh, this was definitely going to end in blood.

* * *

**_1987_ **

“ _Jarvis!_ I need help! I can’t get the- oh.” 

Daniel held back a snicker at Tony, hair spiked and with shaving cream over half his face, holding a wad of toilet paper to a small cut on his cheek. A glance told him Mr Jarvis was having the same problem but was much better at maintaining a neutral face. He calmly set down the files Daniel had brought for him to look over and turned to face his young charge.

“Master Tony-”

He huffed. Mr Jarvis smiled.

“Tony, how may I assist you?”

A flush bloomed over the clean cheek. “Dad got me a shaving kit, but he doesn't have time to show me how to, you know… I don't want to bother him…”

Mr Jarvis’ face softened, “Of course, Tony. Allow me to show you-”

“Hang on,” Daniel cut in. He pointed at the kit in Tony’s hands. “That’s not what you're using, is it?”

Tony blinked. “Uh, yeah?”

Mr Jarvis puffed up, “I recommended it to Mr Stark myself.”

“That’s a straight razor.”

“It is indeed. Stainless steel. Only the best.”

Tony’s gaze shot back and forth between them.

“He doesn't want to shave with that relic,” Daniel said, shaking his head as he got to his feet. “Howard’s gotta have a safety razor here somewhere. I know that man doesn't have the time for a straight razor.”

Mr Jarvis sniffed, “ _I_ use a straight razor. I can assure you it is no _relic_.”

Daniel rolled his eyes, turning Tony around to steer back to the bathroom. “C’mon, if Tony wants to avoid cutting himself all over, a safety razor’s what he wants. They got sent out in kits in the War, you know?”

He could hear Mr Jarvis stomping after them. “Agent Sousa-”

“Ah, retired now.”

“ _Mr_ Sousa,” Mr Jarvis almost snapped, and Daniel had to bite back a grin. “My father taught me with the straight razor, I inherited the blade I use from him, they are good investments that can last a lifetime. If it was good enough for me, I’m sure it’s good enough for Tony.”

“Safety razor is faster.”

“A straight razor is _better_.”

Daniel turned on his heels, locking narrowed eyes with Mr Jarvis. Tony stood between them, shaving cream still covered half his face, but his shoulders were twitching with giggles. Daniel glared at Mr Jarvis, but he had to pinch his mouth tighter to stop himself smiling. Mr Jarvis himself kept a perfectly straight face, but he was turning red and his eye wrinkles gave his humouraway. 

“You know what, Mr Jarvis, I think the only way to settle this is a demonstration.”

“I quite agree.”

Daniel scrubbed a hand across his jaw, “Lucky coincidence, I forgot to shave today.”

“Me too.”

Both men straightened as they stared each other down. 

Daniel coughed to stop himself laughing. 

“Retrieve your weapon and meet in the bathroom?”

Mr Jarvis gave a sharp nod and darted off for his room, while Daniel went to dig out the safety razor he _knew_ Howard must have somewhere. 

They left Tony behind in the corridor, doubled over laughing, dripping gobs of shaving cream onto the expensive hardwood floorboards.

* * *

**_2016_ **

“He never told you.”

Tony gave a tired shrug, rolling his head on the pillow to face Sharon.

“How long had Steve known?”

“Didn’t really stop to ask.”

“And he did…” Sharon traced a finger across the bandage over his chest. Tony shrugged again, and Sharon wanted to scream. Her hand clenched into a fist.

She wasn't sure if she wanted to punch Steve or shake some life into Tony more at that moment. This deadened version of the genius was frightening her, more than his injuries had. He could get so easily trapped in his head, into dark, low places that were so hard to pull him out. And Sharon needed Tony to be present right now, she needed him _here_ , with her, so they could figure a way out of here.

“And after,” Sharon pressed on, brushing a hand over Tony’s hair. “What happened?”

“I told him he didn't deserve the shield.”

Sharon felt a vindictive pleasure in her chest at that, but held her tongue for Tony to continue.

“He dropped it, then left with Barnes.”

The pleasure in her heart plummeted. “He just- but the suit was-”

“Yeah,” Tony sighed. “Suit was down. Didn't feel like getting up again anyway.”

Sharon let go of his hand before she crushed it, Tony only had one good hand as it was, digging her fingers into her scalp instead. _No, no, no_ , Sharon could imagine it, it was so easy to picture, Tony on the ground in a dead suit while Steve walked away with his long-lost buddy.

Rough fingers gentled Sharon’s hands, tugging lightly on a lock of blonde hair. She looked up into bloodshot honey-brown eyes.

“How long were you there?”

Tony shot her a look of pity, which was absolutely ridiculous because Sharon had not been the one left alone in a bunker in Siberia. Sharon had been in Germany, being reprimanded by her boss or on the phone to every contact she had who might know something, anything, about any of the superheroes who had scattered. Sharon didn't deserve pity. Especially not from Tony.

“How long?”

“A day. Maybe more,” Tony admitted. “It was cold. I blacked out a lot.”

“And then Red Skull…”

“And then Red Skull.”

Sharon shot to her feet, swallowing down a scream as she paced in the cell. Back and forth, to the wall then to the glass and then back again. Her rage, her guilt, her fear, everything felt too big to fit in her skin, much less this tiny room.

She kicked out at the tripod legs of the stool. It made a loud racket as it hit the back wall.

“Hey!” one of the guards banged his rifle against the bars outside the glass. “Watch it in there!”

Sharon snarled at the man, a wordless, animal sound of fury. The guard smartly backed away.

Tony reached out, calloused fingers lightly catching her wrist and pulling her back to the bed. She was nearly vibrating with emotion where she sat. Tony just rubbed his thumb across her wrist, in a stupidly soothing movement that still _worked_ goddamnit. 

Sharon knew what Tony meant. This wasn't the place or time for that sort of outburst from her, not here and now. There were more urgent things to worry about, things that risked the lives of more than the two people in this cell. Sharon wasn't going to let Tony just bottle up his feelings to deal with in that box he had labelled ‘Never’, but they could never have a heart-to-heart on the Raft, with Ross and Red Skull’s ears everywhere, where every soft moment could become a weakness used against them.

Tony still hadn't told her what Red Skull was torturing him for earlier. Sharon didn't want to give that madman any more fuel to use against Tony. Not from her. Their hearts weren’t safe in here.

She only spoke again when she was sure she wasn't going to shout.

“What do we do, Tony?”

He didn't reply straight away. Tony looked at her quietly, intensely, for a minute. Then the smallest smirk pulled at Tony’s mouth. It cracked a tear in his lip again, enough to bleed, but that tiny spark in his eyes told Sharon everything she needed to know.

He had a plan.

Tony beckoned her closer, and Sharon curled over him on the cot.

“Are you wearing a bra?”


	4. Ana

**_2016_ **

“This is weird for you, right?” Tony asked, watching as Sharon did that magical trick all women seemed to know where she took off her bra without removing her top. “This is weird for me.”

“Tony.”

“I mean, this is _weird-_ ”

“ _Tony_ ,” Sharon hissed, slipping the bra out of one sleeve. Tony eyed the undergarment, looking absurdly terrified. 

“I think I’ve changed my mind. New plan, less weird!”

“No new plan.”

“Give me a second and there could be!”

“Oh my god.”

*

Black Widow sat at one end of the long table, closest to the wall of TVs displaying feeds from the Raft. She had the remote in her hands, flicking through the different cameras, monitoring with Hawkeye at her side in hushed conversation. 

The blueprints Vision had supplied lay spread in paper and tablet form down the conference table. Falcon and Ant-Man were bent over them, discussing something with thoughtful looks on their faces. 

Scarlet Witch sat with them but apart, a tense silence between them all. She was small and fidgeting in her seat, but pointing things out on the schematics occasionally. T'Challa wondered what he’d missed since he’d left the room earlier.

There _was_ a small spray of blood on some of the papers, and several of the superheroes looked rumpled. There was also some bloody tissues at Black Widow’s elbow, but she appeared unharmed, except for a smear of red on her knuckles. _Oh no_.

T'Challa could feel Teela’s amusement from his right, and from Okoye silent disapproval. This was going to be a pain, he just knew it. He should have left some of the Dora Milaje to - _he couldn't believe he was thinking this_ \- supervise the superheroes. 

But he’d promised his help in penance for his blind vengeance, T'Challa wouldn't let himself give in and turn them out of his country already. No matter how frustrating they all were. He glanced at Barnes to remind himself of that, but couldn't find him. Or Captain America.

“Where are Barnes and the Captain?” T'Challa asked.

Black Widow spun quickly in her seat, and the others all _flinched_. T'Challa bit back a deep sigh. He didn't want to know. There were more pressing matters to deal with. 

“I have not located the Raft yet, Agent Romanov,” T'Challa said pre-emptively, watching Black Widow sit back with a carefully blank expression. “I bring other news. I must speak with you all.”

Scarlet Witch stood, avoiding everyone’s eyes, “I’ll go get Steve.”

* * *

**_1974_ **

Ana grumbled as she left her room. A very vivid nightmare of a night decades ago had woken her. Her husband usually woke too and comforted her, but not this night. He’d slept on, exhausted from the past few days, especially since the arrival of-

“ _Waaaaaahhh!_ ”

“Shh, shh, Tony, don't cry!” 

Ana paused outside the nursery, peering through the open door to see the mistress of the house pacing the room, awkwardly bouncing her new baby in her arms.

Yes, everyone had been quick to realise that no Stark was a quiet one.

Ana felt her heart break watching mother and son, both with tears on their faces. She’d never seen Maria look anything less than perfect, a woman with clear taste, something Ana had admired.

“Please, Tony,” Maria begged. “I don't know what you want. Shhh, baby, please.”

Ana stepped inside and cleared her throat. Maria startled and turned with wide eyes. Her blonde hair was a frizzy mess, there were deep bags under her eyes and wrinkles on her forehead, and she was dressed sloppily in a silk robe and nightgown with only one slipper. Somehow, Ana admired her more for this look.

“Can I help, Mrs Stark?”

“Oh! Oh, please,” Maria said with a wet sniff. She carefully passed the baby over to Ana. “I don't know what to do. He won’t stop crying, and I've been trying to get him to sleep for so long.”

Ana listened with half an ear. Her focus was almost entirely taken with the little bundle in her arms, warm and wriggling and loud, and yet utterly delightful. The last shadows of her nightmares left her as she looked down at the red and frowny baby screaming at her face. 

“It took over an _hour_ for him to nurse, he kept moving around so much.”

Ana nodded, her heart aching with little Tony’s cries. She’d made peace with never having a child with Edwin, his love more than enough for her, but there was sometimes a part of her that still ached at their loss. It seemed both louder and quieter with Tony in her arms. _Anything would be quieter with him in their arms_.

Shifting the baby, Ana took a sniff that said the baby hadn’t soiled his diaper, so Ana held him over her shoulder and gave his back a few firm pats. Tony squeaked out a tiny burp amidst his crying, and another, and then suddenly quieted and pressed his damp face to Ana’s neck. 

Maria stared at her in awe.

Her face quickly crumpled, and she fell back into the expensive rocking chair with a sob. “I’m terrible, I can’t do this! Oh god, I can’t even take care of my baby!” She looked up with wet eyes, “I did that after I fed him, I swear I did!”

“I believe you,” Ana said quickly, reaching out to pat Maria on the shoulder. “It’s only been a few days, we are all learning. You are doing wonderfully, but perhaps you did not pat him hard enough? I only learnt because Mr Jarvis’ cousin had a baby when we last visited. They are surprisingly resilient.”

Maria sniffled, looking at the baby in Ana’s arms. “I didn't want to hurt him.”

“You wouldn’t,” Ana said, passing Tony back into Maria’s arms. She missed his warmth already.

“I don't think I can do this,” Maria admitted softly, looking terribly sad.

Ana crouched by the chair, determined look on her face, “Then I will help you. We all will. You and Mr Stark are not alone. What is that saying, ‘it takes a village’?” 

Maria managed a snort at that, the least elegant thing Ana had seen her do. “It might actually take a village with him,” she said. She brushed at his little tuft of hair gently. “He can be sweet. Do you think he’ll go to sleep now?”

Watching the way the baby was blinking and smacking his lips, Ana thought Tony was going to drift off within the next few minutes. “I hear children like being sung to sleep.”

Maria’s eyes lit up.

“If one Mr Stark enjoys your music, I see no reason to think another won’t.”

There was a light flush on the younger woman’s cheeks, and Maria managed a smile. “Thank you.”

Ana nodded her head and bid them goodnight, walking silently out of the room. She lingered in the corridor long enough to hear the start of a soft melody, before making her way on to her bedroom. 

Edwin was still asleep, snoring to prove how exhausted he was. It must have been tiring chasing after both Mr Starks during the day, while Ana had helped Maria sort through the mountains of baby gifts the mansion had received. Ana was also tired, but, remembering that soft warmth in her arms, she felt happy too. It explained why Edwin had fallen asleep with a smile on his face.

* * *

**_2016_ **

“I think it’s stopped bleeding now.”

Sitting on his bed, Steve lifted his head and waited. True to Bucky’s words, no more blood poured from his nose. But it would take a while for even his black eye to go down. Bucky tsked as he prodded at the bruise.

“I thought she was going to kill you.”

“Me too.”

Steve sounded small like he hadn't been in decades, still only a vague impression in Bucky’s mind, but he remembered how fragile Steve had sounded. “How’re you gonna fix this then?”

“I don’t know,” Steve muttered with a roll of his big shoulders. 

“You don't really think that dame’s spying on us, do ya?”

“No,” he shook his head. “But Nat’s hiding something about how she left.”

“She doesn't seem to be the only one doing that,” Bucky pointed out. He regretted it a little as Steve hunched up again. “Stevie, you know she wasn't wrong about some of that stuff. I did do a _lot_ of bad things-”

“It’s wasn't your fault,” Steve rushed to say.

“I know that,” Bucky said softly. He was still working on getting past the guilt, the horror, but he knew that his actions hadn't been his own choice. It didn't wash away the blood from his hands, or the screams from his memories. He had done terrible things, but he’d also had terrible things done to him. Nothing would change that, Bucky couldn't bring back a dead loved one, he could only work on forgiveness from himself and his victims and move forward.

Steve didn't seem to be able to move forward from this.

Bucky tried to think of a way to get it through the punk’s thick skull that ignoring the bad stuff didn't do a lick of good for anyone, him least of all. Sure, each new nightmare, each horrifying flashback, was terrible. It was shit. No one would like that. But Bucky came out the other end with another missing piece of himself. Another step towards a whole _him_ again. One that remembered all of himself, the good _and_ the bad. 

Still, if someone told Bucky to prostrate himself at all the feet of the families of his victims - because they _were_ his, and Hydra’s, but also his - Bucky would. If not for himself, then so that those left behind could have some closure, to just _know_ what had been done, to have a face to blame if they needed, and know that the weapon used felt remorse.

Bucky would give a lot for some closure. He wondered if Steve felt the same way.

He had a bad habit of not letting things go.

“What haven't you told us?” Steve shot him a wounded look, but Bucky just stared back. “C’mon. You know Widow’s right ‘bout how you're handling me, but you're hiding something else. I don't know me yet, but I know you.”

Steve didn't say anything for a moment, looking down at his hands. “I keep thinking to myself that I wouldn't have done anything differently. Couldn't have. That Tony and the world forced my hand and that it was all worth it in the end because I saved you. But…”

“I’m not worth it,” Bucky supplied.

“No!” Steve cried, reaching a hand out to Bucky’s shoulder. “No, it’s worth it. You're worth it. I just meant that… I regret how things happened. And… there was a chance, several chances, that things maybe could've gone down different.”

“When?”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, “In Berlin, before Zemo triggered you again, Tony talked to me.”

“Talked to you, or tried to talk to you?”

Bucky got a rueful look for that. He waved for Steve to continue. “He told me if I signed, the last 24 hours would be wiped clean, that you'd get transferred to a US psych centre, and that we’d make all the amendments I thought the Accords needed after things had settled.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Bucky said. “I mean, I need help with the head stuff. Still getting that screwed on right. Even you know that. So what made you say no?”

“He was basically going to have Wanda interned.”

Bucky sucked his teeth, nodding, “The Raft?”

“Ah, no.”

“No?”

“The Compound.”

Bucky frowned. “The place where you all lived already… Sounds more like house arrest than internment, Steve. And, I mean, from what the others have said, it’s not a bad place to be.”

Steve shot him a glare, a stubborn familiar look that had still stuck in Bucky’s head after seven decades somehow. “She’s a person, a _kid_ , who made a mistake on a mission. Wanda made a mistake, and Tony was locking her up and calling it protection!”

“So Stark was lying then.”

Steve looked stumped. “What?”

“He wasn't protecting her, that’s what you meant when you called Stark out on what he was doing,” Bucky said. “He was lying about it being for the kid’s protection. So why was he locking her up? Leverage? Some way to _make_ you sign the-”

“No, I, no, I don't know what he was doing, he wouldn't do that.”

“You didn't ask?” Bucky stared at him in surprise. “You didn't ask what Stark was protecting her from, or what was scaring him so much he thought he had’ta do it without telling her?”

Steve dropped his head into his hands, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and pulling viciously, “No. I know, _I know_ , I should’ve. Everything outta Tony’s mouth in this whole mess I seemed to twist and take the wrong way. I don't know why!”

Bucky frowned, feeling vaguely disappointed, but reached out to his friend anyway, clapping his hand on the back of Steve’s head. “I think my screwed up head has been screwing up _your_ head.”

“No, don't put it on you. This is me, it’s always been me. From the very start, everything Tony’s said just got under my skin like no one else’s words did.”

Steve pulled away, touching the bruise covering his face. Bucky let him go. “Alright, so you didn't sign the Accords in Berlin. And that was before I told you ‘bout the other Winter Soldiers. I can see how that mighta changed things, but things mighta stayed the same too. We don't know.”

Bucky sighed. This was a mess.

“Those amendments Stark talked about,” Bucky asked. “You think he coulda pulled ‘em off?”

“If anyone could… I just didn't want to hear it then. Everyone was gunning for you, and then Tony mentioned Wanda, and I just flipped!”

“Jesus, Steve, were you gonna tell the others that there was a chance to change the Accords and avoid arrest?”

“I-”

“T’Challa’s back,” Wanda suddenly said from the doorway.

Steve startled and turned wide eyes at her, wondering how long she’d been there. From the ashen look on her face, Wanda had heard more than enough. She stepped back into the shadows of the doorway, a faint red glow about her fingertips. Bucky stood up, pulling Steve up with him.

“Did he find the Raft?” Bucky asked.

Wanda stared back at them both, weighing them up, measuring for a moment. “No.”

With that, she turned and disappeared back to the conference room on silent footsteps. Steve winced. Bucky shook him, wrapping his one arm around Steve’s shoulders with only a little struggle, “C’mon, punk, let’s go see what his Majesty’s here for.”

“D’you think Wanda’s going to tell the others?”

“Are you really gonna ask her to start keeping secrets from them now?” Bucky asked. “If she doesn't tell them, _you're_  gonna. You need to be honest with ‘em, Stevie.”

Steve ran a hand over his face, “This isn't going to go well. Natasha’s gonna break something next.”

“Never stopped you before. At least now you heal quick.”

“That’s very comforting to know, Buck. She can hit me as many times as she wants, and I’ll heal fast enough for her to hit me again while she’s still angry.”

“Maybe one of the others’ll throw a punch for a change?” 

Bucky led them down the hallway with false confidence in his steps, but he knew Steve wasn't wrong. This wasn't gonna be pretty when the rest of the team heard everything. He hoped whatever T'Challa was here for didn't add to the tension more.

Everyone might be angry right now, but Bucky hoped they didn't lose focus on what was sure to be a bigger threat soon. Red Skull was never good news.

* * *

**_1981_ **

Ana was carrying a platter of tiny hors d’oeuvres out to the garden when she heard the shouting. 

She winced at the loud voices. Maria walked by and cast a cursory glance at the platter, before quietly asking Ana to have a strong martini sent for her, she was going to lie down before the party.

Promising to send Edwin up with her drink, Ana continued on to the party tent to add to the spread already set out. The waitstaff were milling about setting up the last of the bunting and decorations, everyone paid well enough to actively pretend not to hear the raised voices a few metres away behind the shrubs. 

Ana couldn't pretend the same thing. 

“I don't want to go!”

“Tony, you are trying my patience-”

“I don't want to leave home. I don't want to go to another school!”

“It’s a top academy that will fast track you through the rest of high school-”

“I’ve already skipped loads of grades, everyone’s older than me-”

“Stop it.”

“-and they all hate me ‘cos I'm younger, I have no friends, no one wants to play with me-”

“You will quit your complaining _right now_ ,” Howard growled. Ana crept closer and peered between the leaves. He had a hand wrapped around Tony’s arm, and they were almost nose to nose, near identical glares on their faces, though Tony’s chin was trembling. “And don't you go to your mother crying. Stark men are made of iron, you hear me? I don’t want to be hearing about any trouble. You keep your head down and study.”

“Dad, _please_.”

“Enough,” Howard snapped. “I don’t pay for you to go to school to _play_. You're there to learn. Don’t make me lose my temper.”

Tony shuffled on the spot, “… Can Jarvis come with me?”

“ _No_ , he cannot. You have a nanny for that. And _no_ , not Mrs Jarvis either.”

Howard released Tony’s arm and stormed off, not even noticing Ana as he stomped past. Ana waited a moment, before hurrying around the shrub. She appeared just in time to see Tony give in to his tears. He looked at her, tears welling up, and reached up for her. Tony was getting too big to pick up now, but today Ana knelt on the ground and gathered him up on her lap. He buried his teary face into her neck.

“I don't w-w-wanna leave home,” Tony sobbed. 

“I know, I know,” Ana said softly, wishing there was something more she could say. But he wasn't hers, no matter how much she longed for it sometimes. She rubbed his back as Tony’s little hands wrinkled her dress, clinging desperately. “It will be alright.”

“This is the w-w-worst birthday e-ever!”

“Shhh, _édesem_ , I'm here.”

“Why’s Dad s-sending me aw-w-way?”

“He just wants what’s best for you.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

“Maybe think of it like an adventure,” Ana offered. “Like all those stories you love from Peggy.”

Tony knuckled at his eyes, sniffling but his crying subsiding, “Like Cap’n America?”

“Exactly!” Ana wiped Tony’s face clean with a handkerchief. She kissed his cheeks and grinned brightly at the red marks her lipstick left behind, making her wipe his face again. “You’re so clever. You go march into your new school, learn the terrain, conquer your lessons-”

“Stop the bullies?” 

Ana nuzzled at Tony’s nose, “Yes, my little hero, that too. You be a brave boy and show that school what you're made of.”

Tony nodded seriously, “I can be like Cap.”

“Of course you can! You can be anything, my little genius,” Ana said, with a final smacking kiss on his nose that had him giggling. “Now, let’s go wash up. Peggy and her family will be here soon for the party.”

Tony gently swung their arm as Ana led him back into the house hand in hand. “What d’you think Aunt Peggy will think, about me going off on adventures like Cap?”

Ana spotted Howard in the periphery, bustling about the party tent and furiously smoking a cigar. She pursed her lips. “Oh, I expect Peggy will have _plenty_ to say about it.”

* * *

**_2016_ **

One of the guards rapped the butt of his gun against the glass.

“Hey! What are you two doing?”

Sharon spun to face him, a fiery scowl on as she snarled back, “Improvising a sling, what does it look like?!”

“Ah-”

The guard was clearly looking between Sharon’s face and the bra that was half-supporting Tony’s bad arm to his chest. Tony shrugged, plucking at one of the straps with a defeated pout on his face.

“He’s got a broken hand, nearly all his fingers were dislocated, something’s pulled in his shoulder, and those are some of the ‘least’ of his injuries!” Sharon spat angrily at the guard. “ _And then_ you’ve given us _no supplies_ to treat him with. You think I'm just gonna sit here and watch him suffer?!”

“I-”

“And you know what? This is basic First Aid training!” Sharon continued ranting. “But since I don't have the luxury of bandages or slings or even some _fucking_ disinfectant, I've had to strap his hand with a ripped-up prison T-shirt, and improvise with my own _bra_ to keep his arm elevated!”

The guard was backing away from the glass.

“Oh, are you done talking to me now?” 

Sharon laughed a high, mocking laugh that had the guard scuttling back faster.

“Ask me a stupid fucking question… What? Did you think we were breaking out using my _underwear_?” Sharon shouted. “Where is Hydra getting you guys from?!”

The guards had all turned away and paced further from the glass. Sharon shot them one last glare before turning back to the cot and helping adjust the bra around Tony’s arm. She ignored the amused look on his face.

“Feel a little better?”

“Shut up,” she snapped, quietly and with no heat. She nodded to Tony’s good hand. “Have you got the wire out yet?”

“Nearly.”

Sharon nodded, gently cradling the elbow of Tony’s bad arm. It just so happened that in this position, Sharon was also bodily blocking his hands from the view of the cameras and the guards clustered outside, so Tony could safely reach one of the wires and tug it out from the bra.

“Have I told you how weird this is for me?”

“Several times. Tony, what do you need the wire for?”

“Yeah… about that…”

Sharon almost yelled again, because she knew that look on Tony’s face. Whatever he had planned, she wasn't going to like it, but she was going to have to go along because they didn't have many other choices in here.

She hoped it didn't involve Tony doing something stupid or painful, but history told her that whether he planned it or not, Tony often got hurt anyway. 

“What’s the wire for?” Sharon asked again, bracing herself for the answer.

Tony winced, avoiding eye contact as he bit off the safety cap on the end of the underwire. 

“ _Tony_.”

When he spoke, he spoke quickly, but Sharon heard every word perfectly.

“I need to use it to stab myself in the arm.”

Sharon felt her face twitch.

Tony was eying his arm alarmingly, and Sharon reached out and snatched the underwire from him before he did something drastic. 

“ _Explain_.”

*

“Are you fucking with me?!” Clint growled, staring across the table at Steve after his confession.

Tony had been willing to amend the Accords. Tony had been _ready_ to amend the Accords. The reason Clint had left retirement, and it was- it was a waste. It could've all been avoided; this whole mess; his name on every most wanted list; an ocean between him and his family… If only Steve and Tony had freaking _talked_ properly. 

It was Natasha that had held him back this time, which, _fair_. 

She was awfully calm about all this though.

“Did you know?” Clint asked her.

Natasha looked steadily back at him, but it wasn't she who answered.

“There were procedures set in place for amending the Accords,” T'Challa said evenly. “There had been concerns about parts of the agreements not long after its conception when Ross became involved, from _numerous_ parties. It was my father who passed the motion that changes could be made to the documents if agreed to by all parties involved. It was one of the last decisions he made on the Accords.”

Sam gaped at the king. “So, all that stuff, Ross and his panels to control us, we could've got rid of that?”

“No,” T'Challa said. “You could not have done a thing, Mr Wilson, because you refused to sign. The UN had no evidence of your willingness to co-operate.”

“Wait, lemme get this straight,” Scott frowned. “You have to sign to make any changes, but if you don't sign you're a fugitive? Is that supposed to be fair?”

“Mr Lang, you are a fugitive because you helped Captain America escape with a labelled terrorist and helped destroy a German Airport. And _yes_ , we all know now that Barnes was innocent, but at the time? The Accords and Stark didn't arrest you. Ross did.” T'Challa shot a hard look at Steve. “We, in fact, might still be the _only_ ones who know of Barnes’ innocence, because outside of this group, only Tony Stark gathered any evidence proving that, and he is now a captive himself. Which brings me back to my original-”

“I didn't know,” Scott said abruptly. “I didn't get a chance to read them. Properly.”

“And yet, you still fought against it.”

Scott slid down in his seat, hiding his face away in his hands. 

T'Challa leaned against on the table with a weary exhale. “Despite discovering some of its roots came about from Red Skull and Secretary Ross’ machinations, the Accords also came about because over one hundred nations saw your actions - justified or not, helpful or not, necessary or not - as terrifying. You are a group of individuals with strengths that can become terribly dangerous. And the world saw your actions as that, with no control or way to learn the truth from you.”

He looked them each in the eye, every inch the King he was just learning to become, a powerful image with Teela and Okoye as warrior angels at his shoulders. 

“Barnes’ innocence is just another example of this,” T'Challa pointed out. “ _We_ know of his innocence, but the world does not. To us, his actions since his arrest have been somewhat justified and explained. To the rest of the world… they saw Captain America hold a murderer above the law and aid his escape, without a seeming care of the destroyed public property and injured innocent civilians. And you, Captain, have given them no cause to learn otherwise. You have all left the world to face its ruins alone.”

Sam looked away, and Steve cringed but didn't say anything. There was nothing to say to that. T’Challa took a deep breath, rubbing his aching eyes. He hadn’t slept well since Vienna.

“Truth, in this group, seem to have a habit of staying hidden. We must all learn to overcome that.”

“That’s what Tony was trying to do,” Natasha joined in. “ _Over a hundred countries_ , those documents and laws weren't going away. But if we had one hand on the wheel, there might've been a way to split the difference. Meet them halfway on _our_ terms while we still had the chance to speak up and be listened to.”

T'Challa nodded, before straightening once again. “Put the Accords from your mind for now. There is little we can do now that cannot wait until we retrieve Agent Carter and Tony Stark. We will need him if we’re to sort out this mess.”

Steve nodded, stepping up to the table, Bucky a solid presence at his side. “Yes, did you have something to tell us?”

For the first time since he’d returned to the room, T'Challa offered a small smile. With a click on the nearest tablet, one of the TVs Natasha had been using to monitor the Raft cameras changed imagery. 

Steve gulped as he looked up at the screen with Colonel James Rhodes glaring down at them all.

* * *

**_1990_ **

Ana put the finishing touches to the apple torte when she heard the front door open. She’d dropped the first one, and Edwin had to go buy more fruit. The tart still hadn't fully cooled yet, and she cursed her own clumsiness. Her hands had been acting up lately. She shook them out and turned just as her boy entered with Edwin, already laughing uproariously at something.

Tony spread his arms wide and scooped her up, Ana shrieking as he spun her around. “Tony! Put me down!” Ana laughed. “Come, let me look at you. Have you been looking after yourself?”

He set her down with a roll of his eyes, but Tony was grinning warmly, “ _Yes_ , Ana.” He was maybe a little taller, or perhaps Ana was kidding herself for Tony’s sake. He was definitely skinnier, though Ana thought that his truly happy smile maybe made up for that a little. She knew of Tony’s tendency to let the world fall away when he was in the middle of a project. “I'm eating my veggies and getting my sleep.”

“Barely.”

Ana’s head turned at the new voice and saw a young man standing by Edwin. He had dark skin and a warm smile, with a duffel bag over one shoulder, and a hoodie that said MIT. There was only one person this could be. 

His friend. His _best_ friend. 

The only person Tony talked about consistently from college that wasn't an ‘idiot’, who he would see fit to bring home to meet Ana and Edwin. 

Not that he’d mentioned such plans to her.

She smacked Tony on the bottom and had the delight to watch him turn red and shoot scathing glares at his snickering friend. “ _Ana_!”

“You did not tell me we would be expecting a guest,” she huffed at Tony, crossing her arms. “Now I have no room made up, no dinner prepared, what sort of welcome is this?”

“It’s only for the night, I’ll be driving on home to Philly tomorrow.” The young man stepped forward, holding out a hand. “James Rhodes, ma’am, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Ana shook his hand, sharing an approving look with Edwin over his shoulder. “You may call me Ana. Are you hungry?”

“I could eat,” Tony piped up.

“Colour me surprised,” Edwin drawled.

James grinned at them for a moment, before facing Ana again. “Don’t let me be a bother. I’ve been bunking with _this_ guy all year, I can handle one more night with him until I have my own room.”

“Oh, I like you,” Ana declared, pulling James into a fierce hug with an ‘ _oof!_ ’ and making him drop his things. 

Tony took his turn snickering, before Ana dragged him to join the hug too. He grumbled and grumped, but Ana felt him snuggle closer and tuck his nose into her neck, felt Tony smile against her skin when Ana pressed kisses into his hair.

Edwin looked indulgently at the group hug, “I’ll just see to these bags alone then, shall I?”

* * *

**_2016_ **

Tony grinned nervously at Sharon, but _damn_ , she’d learned that irritated face from Peggy, and it was super effective. He needed her to give the underwire back. There was little chance that Tony, injured and down one useful hand, was going to be able to snatch it back from badass agent Sharon. Not without hurting her, and he didn't want that.

“Okay, so, I have a lot of sub-dermal implants in me. Like, forty-eight of them, all over-”

“I know that. You use it to call the armour,” Sharon said before Tony could deflect. “What’s does that have to do with stabbing yourself.”

“Right,” Tony raised his bad arm a little. “Well, they're all connected, right? But in all the fights I've gotten into lately - not my fault - one of the implants in this arm got knocked out of alignment. I need to put it back in place.”

“ _Tony_ , you have still not told me why you need to stab yourself in the arm. As in _why_ do you need the implant in alignment.”

“Homing signal,” Tony said. “When they're all in alignment, I click my heels, and I send an emergency signal for FRIDAY to pick up and ping off from, and then she’ll send for help.”

Sharon stared at Tony, not sure if she wanted to laugh or sigh. _Click his heels_ , dear god, he’d made himself some sort of Dorothy without the need for shoes.

“I thought it was clever.”

“And memorable,” Sharon said, leaning toward the laughter reaction more by the second. “You haven't set off the signal by accident? Like in your sleep?”

“Ah, no, because the signal only sends after I click my heels three times and cross my fingers.”

Sharon had to bite her lip to hold back a giggle, imagining Tony doing some sort of bizarre dance in order to call for help.

Tony noticed. He narrowed his eyes at her, “I want you to know I was maybe not entirely sober when I input that protocol, but the foot implants were a bitch to put in so I maintain I needed that alcohol.”

He scowled as Sharon fell forward to hide her laughs against his shoulder, but Tony’s lip was twitching so she knew he wasn't really offended. What Tony had said came back to her though, and she sat up abruptly.

“Click your heels and _cross your fingers_?”

Tony winced at that, and they both looked down at his bandaged hand, especially his wrapped up fingers. “Yeah, I think you're gonna have to help me with that bit. And grab a couple of the bandages, this is probably going to bleed.”

Sharon glanced down and saw Tony had lifted the underwire from her when she’d been laughing. She winced and turned away as Tony studied the arm in his ‘sling’ and started aiming the little wire.  That thing wasn't especially sharp, Sharon only hoped Tony found the implant on the first try.

It wasn't the worst thing Sharon had seen done since becoming an agent, but seeing Tony hurt never seemed to get easier. Worse when he was the one doing the hurting too. 

The cot juddered.

“ _Ow!_ Son of a bitch,” Tony hissed from behind her.

* * *

**_1996_ **

Ana was terribly thin and pale in the bed, wrinkles lining the creases of her eyes and mouth. Her once bright red hair long faded to a soft grey, kept in a neat braid by her husband when her own hands shook too much. Jarvis was sleeping in the chair by the bed. Tony fondly watched his open mouth as he snored, a newspaper in one hand, Ana’s hand in the other.

Gentle fingers turned Tony’s head back to face her, and he couldn't escape those eyes. She tilted her head to Jarvis, “You’ll take care of him, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Tony said, pulling up a smile from somewhere. “You don't worry about a thing. I’ll take care of Jarvis, and Jarvis’ll take care of me.”

“Like usual.”

“Like usual.”

She thumbed away a tear that slipped past Tony’s lashes. 

“You know, I don't think I cry like this around anyone else but you,” Tony said softly, smoothing the blanket over her legs.

Ana looked pleased, “A high honour, indeed.”

Tony studied at her again, so frail now, but it hadn't diminished the brightness of her green eyes. He held her hand to his cheek, “What am I going to do without you?”

“ _A szívem szíve_ ,” Ana said softly, bringing him close to kiss his forehead. “You will find others worthy of your tears.”

Tony shook his head, pressing closer to hide his face in the crook of Ana’s neck. She still smelled as always of apples and roses. Jarvis must have brought her perfume to the hospital. Tony closed his eyes and held her hand tight with a sigh. _It wouldn't be long now_.

*

_“Don’t you touch me! I have[pepper](http://tonyandpepperstark.tumblr.com/post/82390531051/the-official-story-of-how-virginia-potts-became) spray!” _

Three years later, Tony was on the phone when a woman burst into his office, glaring behind at his security guards while waving a bundle of papers and loudly and unapologetically telling Tony he’d made a numerical mistake, followed quickly by a pointed comment about his drinking.

Tony glanced up at the woman’s hair and burst out laughing. He wondered it was ingrained in him, to feel safe with a redhead who told him off. Maybe Ana had sent her. Always looking out for her _édese_ , even after she was gone. 

* * *

**_2016_ **

“Is it working? Because I don't want to have to do that again.”

Tony sat still for a minute, ignoring the throbbing from his left hand, the first two fingers crossed and painful. He crossed the fingers on his right hand, and lightly tapped his heels three times, in as natural a movement as possible in front of the cameras. Sharon was fixated on the new bandage halfway down his forearm, and the little bloody spot on the inside. 

In the end, it had taken three tries to get the implant back in position. Now…

It was faint, but Tony felt the smallest hum from his top back molar - _and that had been a bitch to get done_. A short vibration, followed by nothing for twice as long, before repeating. _That’s the outgoing signal_. Tony waited nervously for a burst of two vibrations that was the response signal. 

But it didn't come.

Yeah, Tony was well accustomed to dealing with a bad hand.

“Good news - the signal’s definitely working. Yay!” Tony quietly cheered at Sharon. 

She didn't appear amused. “Bad news?”

“Okay, I was hoping this wouldn't happen, but the signal isn't getting out,” Tony whispered. He pointed to the glass. “See that? It’s not normal glass. It’s a reinforced smart glass, I've designed something similar for SHIELD before. I suspect Hydra’s stealing my designs from there, damn them, which means we have a problem.”

“You designed it, can’t you work your way around it?”

“It’s used for the Hulk containment unit and to hold threats in SHIELD custody. I designed it so there shouldn't be a way around it,” Tony admitted. “There’s an electrical current running through the smart glass material that, when complete with the rest of the room, activates an electromagnetic shield.”

“Then, we just break the circuit,” Sharon said, determined look on her face as she eyed the glass, looking for weaknesses.

_Oh, she was going to be so angry._

Tony had to stop inventing things that came back to bite him in the ass.

“We’ll never break the circuit with what we have in here.”

Sharon shot him a careful look. “So what do we do?”

Tony sighed.

"Well... I need to be on the other side of that glass long enough for the signal to get through. So."

Sharon shook her head enough she nearly whipped Tony in the face with her blonde hair.

“No.”

“When Red Skull comes for me-”

“ _No!_ ”

“-the best thing for us is to just let them take me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really wrestled with this chapter - if it wasn't obvious from the slow update - but I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> The Hungarian I used was from google translate, so feel free to correct me if I'm wrong. The translations I got were  
>   _édesem_ ~ sweetheart  
>    _szívem szíve_ ~ heart of my heart  
>  Edit: Thank you for the help with the Hungarian [gyen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/gyen/pseuds/gyen) and [zitacica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zitacica/pseuds/zitacica)!
> 
> Also I've just set up a Tumblr for this account btw -> [Riverlander974](http://riverlander974.tumblr.com) . I'm not sure how frequently I'll be on their (it's so new! like there is nothing there yet) but I thought I'd try and keep updates about my progress there if anyone is interested. I'm often nosy enough about fic authors on here, and turnabout is fairplay.
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


	5. Jarvis

**_2016_ **

Jim was in no state to be taking this call. Technically. 

What he could feel of his body was in agony, and what he couldn't feel was terrifying. At least the partial paralysis was said to _maybe_ be temporary. Swelling and over-extending and Jim honestly stopped listening to the doctors after the word ‘temporary’. Tony had been there - hadn't left Jim’s side - and he’d been paying enough attention for them both. Jim knew that by the end of the night Tony would have practically made himself an expert on spinal injuries.

It left Jim free to gather himself, emotionally and mentally, for the journey ahead.

One of Tony’s first calls had been to Pepper, to get the number for the [AccuTech](http://marvelcinematicuniverse.wikia.com/wiki/AccuTech) subsidiary of SI, about getting their tech for his Rhodey to use. They’d been moving into lower limb exo-skeletons after the success of their upper body prosthetics, and Tony had some new ideas for improvements. Within an hour, Rhodey had been added to their latest trial. He was going to be fitted with one of their braces just as soon as he left the hospital.

At least there had been that for a silver lining when Jim called his parents from the hospital.

Tony had left the room when Mama Rhodes started to cry over the phone. The downside to having such good tech meant her sobs came through with crystal clarity. He’d come back, like a dog with his tail between his legs, and Tony had looked so heartbreakingly surprised when Mama had started fussing and asking after him too, tutting over the bruises she saw over the video call.

It had made Jim laugh seeing Tony blush. That never got old. 

After that emotional call, they'd mutually agreed that that was enough feelings for one afternoon, and Tony had been stuck to his phone with FRIDAY while Jim had another meeting with the doctors and actually listened this time. They’d been very understanding. It had been excruciating.

Jim had come back, ready to sleep the rest of the day away, when Tony had announced his departure.

It had made Jim a little anxious, he wasn't going to lie, but then Tony had babbled about the Raft and a setup and the team, and it wasn't sanctioned by the Accords, this was going to get him in trouble, Jim knew Tony knew that too. But Jim had stared at those big eyes practically swimming with guilt, and he’d let him go. 

Tony was going to help Steve after all. Cap would keep him safe.

“You said Vision’s sticking with me,” Jim had said, nodding to the silent synthezoid stood guard in the corner of the room. “I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. You go do what you gotta do. And I’ll be here when you get back.”

Tony had bitten his lip and almost crumpled into hugging Jim, “Thank you.”

Jim was now regretting letting Tony go alone. 

It had been over three days since he’d had contact with Tony. 

He’d tried patience. Anger wasn't going to help anyone, it only distracted from his physio session and doctors consultations, and he needed to get through those to get out of the hospital ( _to go and help Tony_ ) _._ But he hadn't been able to completely shake off his worry for Tony out there alone. 

There had been news that Black Panther had caught the real culprit behind Vienna’s attack, and a breakout from the Raft was widely televised, with Ross turning purple at the questions he couldn't answer from the reporters. Nothing about Steve. And nothing about Tony. Vision had been like a shadow following Jim as they’d waited for any news on Tony. But their flashy armoured superhero hadn't appeared once.

And then one day his head had snapped up, like a dog on a scent, and Vision had turned to Jim with a grave expression. 

“Red Skull has Tony,” was all he’d said, words that would haunt Jim.

It had taken a long time to calm him down, and that was even after Vision had assured him it wasn't a hoax, that 40s super-villain was _alive_ and the _Secretary of Defence_ to top it all. _God, did anyone actually manage to die and stay dead in the 40s?_

Vision had awoken with new purpose, had kept Jim corralled in the hospital while co-ordinating with King T'Challa - who’d been the one to inform them of Tony’s kidnapping. Vision had mentioned the team.

It had been a slip of the tongue, from Vision’s sheepish expression, but Jim had heard.

The team. _Cap’s_ team. In Wakanda. Safe.

“How did Red Skull get his hands on Tony then?” Jim had asked, wheeling closer.

Vision had avoided his eyes. “Captain Rogers was not present at the time of the kidnapping. I have been searching all global imaging to find the Raft, and I am monitoring communications from Ross and his… colleagues. As soon as we find Mr Stark-”

 _No_.

Jim had heard enough. _Captain Rogers was not present at the time of the_ \- but Tony had gone off to help Steve. Tony had gone off, and if Steve hadn't been around it meant two things. Either Tony had never made it to Steve, or Steve had left Tony behind. Both were unacceptable. 

“Did Tony make it to Steve?”

Vision still hadn't looked at him. “King T'Challa tells me he made contact, yes.”

The lid Jim had kept on his anger had _snapped_ , and he’d thrown about the weights in the physio room and damaged some equipment. Jim had to be sedated, he’d lost precious _time_ goddamnit, woken up feeling more lost than when he’d first woken after The Fall. _Not Tony._

When he’d calmed, he’d been overly calm, apologising to the hospital staff and politely asking Vision to contact Wakanda and its fugitives, _now_ , Jim had some things he wanted to discuss. The synthezoid had agreed and left to quickly make it happen.

It hadn't taken long before Vision had walked back into his room carrying a tablet. He said nothing at Jim’s desperate grabby hands, merely passed the tablet over. “His Majesty will call on this. He’s gathering the team.”

So now Jim was sitting up in his hospital bed, drumming his fingers, the tablet resting on his unresponsive knees, Vision by his side, waiting for someone in Wakanda to pick up and explain to him _what the hell was going on_.

* * *

**_1975_ **

“Tony?”

Edwin peered under the settee but found no toddler there. Nor in the kitchen, the living room, dining room, nursery, or his playroom. He’d definitely not been in Howard’s workshop either, because Edwin had locked that himself when Mr and Mrs Stark had left for the weekend, and the key was definitely still in his pocket.

Tony had a bad habit of getting into places he shouldn’t. It had been a very, very big adjustment, a child added to the household. Very stressful for Edwin, in particular.

His darling Ana seemed to glow with happiness at the addition, all smiles and laughter. Edwin admitted, the child could be sweet in his mother’s arms, or babbling with Ana, or even quietly sitting by his father as Howard read his papers. Edwin could also admit to feeling jealous, because as sweet as those moments were, Edwin always seemed to arrive only when Tony was making a new mess, or running loose, or having a tantrum.

It was quite disheartening.

Like chasing after a smaller Howard that spoke even less coherently. Not at all like enjoying the closest thing to raising a child Edwin was probably ever going to have.

Ana was out food shopping, the nanny was missing, and so Edwin had been left alone in the house with Tony. Edwin had taken his eyes off Tony for a _second,_ but that had been long enough.

Making a round through the upstairs bedrooms, Edwin finally found his little charge. Tony was sat on the dresser in the Jarvis’ bedroom, gnawing and drooling on one of Edwin’s silk ties. Because of course he was. 

“There you are!”

Tony mustn’t have heard him, because the little boy startled badly, and tipped over the edge of the dresser.

Edwin nearly had a heart attack.

He leapt across the room in a blur, managing to catch Tony before he hit the floor, collapsing into a heap on the carpet curled around the toddler. They were both in tears from the shock as Edwin began obsessively checking for injuries.

“Now, now, it’s alright,” Edwin tried to soothe the crying boy. “I’ve got you, you didn't get hurt, it’s alright now, Tony. Shhh…”

Tony hiccuped, blinking up at Edwin with teary brown eyes, as though just realising he was in fact safe. 

“How did you even get up-” Edwin noticed the pulled out drawers up the dresser. They'd all been opened, like stairs to the top. _How on earth had he thought to do that?_

Tony just innocently tilted his head. Edwin put on a stern frown.

“You shouldn't do such dangerous things, Tony.”

At that, Tony seemed to pout, which was ridiculous, because there was no way he really understood everything Edwin was saying. And yet, Tony tentatively held up the soggy, wrinkled tie to Edwin. Tony gummed at his other tiny fist, bashful almost.

“Oh, is that what you were doing? Getting me a tie I already own? Kind of you. I didn't know you knew me so well,” Edwin drawled as he plucked up the ruined tie. "Truly excellent taste."

Tony let out a peal of giggles that absolutely _did not_ charm Edwin out of his sudden shock. He stood, Tony safely tucked in his arms, before setting the tie on the dresser and walking out of the room. 

“I expect you’ll need a change of pants. _I know I will._ I'm not as young as I used to be. You really mustn't scare me so, Tony.” Edwin felt a small pat on his chest and looked down to see Tony winding his little hand around the tie he was wearing. 

“Jar,” he squeaked, patting the soft material. “Jar!” Edwin felt his heart skip for the second time in the past five minutes.

“You’re going to be as bad as your father. I can tell.”

He received a kiss on the cheek that was more drool than anything, but Edwin had to hold back tears as Tony snuggled deeper into his arms.

He rested his head on Tony’s. “But… perhaps you’ll be much greater than him too.”

* * *

**_2016_ **

“What do we know?”

Steve straightened his stance, looking up at the monitor screen. “Rhodes-”

Natasha stood up, locking eyes with Rhodes through the TV. “Stark’s on the Raft, has been since Siberia as far as we can tell, taken by the Red Skull. He hasn't tried to contact you?”

Rhodes shook his head. “No, but I expect he’s either already trying or about to, dumb sonovabitch. Vision says you’re still looking for the prison?”

“Yes,” T'Challa said, stepping up to Natasha’s side. “No luck on your side?”

Vision shook his head, appearing just on the edge of the screen. “No, your Majesty.”

Rhodes looked up at him. “Not even FRIDAY?”

“FRIDAY has not been responding to my calls.”

“What?” Rhodes gaped at Vision in surprise. “You didn't tell me that!”

Vision gave a sheepish shrug, “I did not want to distress you further, though I was not worried. I would have informed you when I made contact.”

Rhodes turned back to the group, “What was the state of the suit, the last anyone saw?”

Steve barely twitched, but Rhodes' eyes zoned in on him somehow anyway. He felt compelled to answer under those eyes. “Suit was non-functional.”

“Non-functional,” Rhodes repeated, deadpan.

Bucky grunted, fed up with the polite terms and runaround, “We fought Stark in Siberia. By the end, my arm got blasted off, and we’d broken the  power source in his chest piece.”

Rhodes turned horrified eyes to Steve. “You destroyed the arc reactor.”

“Tony was still alive and awake when we left him,” Steve said quickly. “He was-”

“He was in a metal suit, with no power, which meant no comms, no flight, no way to come home, and _you just left-_ ” Rhodes sucked in a deep breath through his nose, the fierce expression on his face clearing to something cold and professional. He spoke through gritted teeth. “So the suit was down. If FRIDAY was with him at the time, would that cause her to go dark? Some damage to her code?”

Steve’s jaw dropped as for the first time he realised that it hadn't been just Tony, Bucky and him in the fight. FRIDAY. _Had he hurt someone else too?_  

Vision shrugged, “It’s possible but unlikely. Her memory banks are stored on servers on every continent, the HUD is not where she’s based. Knowing what she’s like, I find it more likely that FRIDAY hasn't communicated as she has devoted all processing power to finding Mr Stark.”

Rhodes nodded sharply, “That’s why you weren’t worried.”

“Of all of us, FRIDAY has the best chances of locating Mr Stark,” Vision said confidently. “She is located across the globe and has the ability to access almost anywhere, along with the relentless drive of both a young child and a computer in search of her creator. She will contact us when she finds him.”

“JARVIS was the same, back during…” a sad expression pulled at Rhodes’ face.

“We’re still waiting on a location then,” Natasha pressed on. “What about the plan for after? Are we all taking part in the extraction?”

Rhodes gave a bitter laugh, “ _Vision_ should be able to-”

“I am tasked with your protection.”

“I don’t _need_ protection.”

“In your condition-”

“My _condition_ -”

“On top of the mounting threat of both Secretary Ross and Red Skull, you are vulnerable right now. You are Mr Stark’s closest friend and one of few who had access to highly confidential data of his. You are a valuable target too, Colonel,” Vision continued, impassive to Rhodes’ furious scowl. “We cannot risk any more of us being taken. I will remain with you.”

“I agree,” Natasha added.

They shared a look Steve didn't understand, but Rhodes seemed to accept what Natasha said begrudgingly. It had him confused. He’d thought, after Germany, that the two would be at odds after Natasha switched sides. _Did she switch sides?_ Steve wondered, remembering back to her words, ' _my leaving was carefully calculated’_. 

“Alright,” Rhodes looked around the whole group again, everyone straightening up under his serious eyes. “Tell me about the first break out.”

“Security’s been increased in the prison since our escape,” Clint pointed out. “That plan won’t work again.”

“I’d guessed that, but I need information to work with, we can’t go into this blind,” Rhodes said with a roll of his eyes. “I need to know what worked, what didn’t, what options you discarded, what other routes did you map out. Give me everything.”

Steve opened his mouth to answer but found Natasha speaking over him again, rattling off every plan they’d formed _and then some_ efficiently to Rhodes, Clint chipping in every now and again with one of his sharp-eyed observations. 

She was stood by his side, and yet, Steve had never felt so far removed from the assassin. 

Two years ago, as SHIELD was falling apart around them, and Hydra was in every shadow, he’d thought Natasha was all he had to depend on. Couldn't risk contacting any of the other Avengers, couldn't let himself even entertain the possibility of them being Hydra, had rather left it unknown and lived a little longer in blissful ignorance. Natasha had seemed the same, not knowing who to trust.

Except for Steve. She’d said she owed him. 

_‘If it was the other way around, and it was down to me to save your life - now, you be honest with me - would you trust me to do it?’_

_‘I would now. And I'm always honest.’_

Steve felt ashamed now, at how far he’d pushed her, pushed all of them, away. Black Widow didn't offer her trust to just anyone, and he’d squandered it. Natasha had attacked him, twice now. Over Tony. Someone, he realised, Natasha trusted but didn't realise the trust was mutual. Their friendship had always seemed strange to Steve, but so had many things.

He’d never known that Sharon had been a Carter. 

Or that Peggy had known Tony.

That Peggy was Tony’s _godmother_.

It made sense when he thought about it. No doubt Howard and Peggy had kept contact after the War, maybe the other Howling Commandos too. But Steve hadn't wanted to imagine really what their lives were like after he put that plane down in the Arctic. 

Sometimes it felt like he’d never left the ice. That he was still stuck there.

Steve knew he hadn't really wanted to confront the reality that he was in this time, that his friends were all old or dead, that everything he’d known and loved had been left decades behind. 

Working for SHIELD had been easy. Steve didn't have time to remember or think too hard about what he’d missed. That Peggy had been a founding member made it easy to pick over all the other offers he’d gotten. Give him a mission, and Steve could carry it out, hopefully make the world a safer place, and pretend that it could be any time.

And after SHIELD, even with the devastation of Hydra’s reveal to the world, there had been Bucky. There had been someone who’d once meant home. Who could mean home again, in a time that Steve was realising he’d never really tried to make his home. Never fit in anywhere, because he hadn't wanted to fit in here. He’d latched onto Bucky as another means of denial, and called it rescuing his friend. 

Looking at him now, a fugitive in a foreign country with the whole world after him, Steve wondered if he hadn't just doomed his friend again. 

Steve hadn't known about Tony, or Sharon, was realising he didn't really know Natasha, he was beginning to understand that he had not been a true friend to anyone in this century. Demanded honesty, and kept secrets to himself. Yelled to be heard, and listened to no one. Asked for respect, and offered little in return. Inspired trust, and given none. Called them up to have his back, and left them hanging when they’d needed him (break out or not, he’d left them, he always left them).

Even Sam, loyal, _on his left_ Sam, Steve knew he’d kept him at arm's length, despite all that Sam had done for him with little reason. 

Steve had even had the trust of Tony Stark, once, a notoriously untrustingman. 

Watching the others shoot information back and forth with Rhodes, Steve vowed to himself that he would be different. There was a chance half these people would never again trust him, didn't already, but Steve wouldn't let it stop him helping them. The whole Accords matter could be dealt with later, when Tony was safe again, when Tony was here to yell at him if he needed. Steve was ready to be here for the team.

Steve was ready to listen.

* * *

**_1982_ **

Tony was sat in a chair on the balcony, the setting sun lighting his dark hair with a copper sheen. Edwin stood and stared at him for a moment. Already, the little boy was growing up. Not tall or gangly, but his face was losing the baby fat, chin sharper, nose longer. The eyes hadn't changed though, honey-brown in the sunlight, and desperately sad after his last encounter with Howard.

“Master Tony…” 

Tony hunched over in his seat.

“Do not take his outburst to heart.”

“Leave me alone, Jarvis.”

“[Fathers and sons](http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/marvelcinematicuniverse/images/b/b3/Edwin_Jarvis_Young_Tony.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20150321200414),” Edwin continued, stepping out onto the balcony despite Tony’s annoyed huff. “That particular relationship is often so difficult to manoeuvre. For both sides.”

Edwin sat in the chair next to his young charge. Tony looked pointedly at the sunset, eyes dry. He rarely cried. One year at boarding school had begun to harden him already against the public’s eye. Perhaps only his mother and Ana ever saw him cry now. 

“But time heals all wounds.”

Tony shook his head, pulling his legs up to hide his face behind his knees. Edwin shuffled his chair closer and reached out to lay a hand on Tony’s arm. He didn't say anything else until he felt Tony lean back into him.

“I understand what you're going through.”

For the first time, Tony’s eyes turned to Edwin, ever curious and intelligent. “Yeah? Your Dad…”

“I was born not long after the First World War began,” Edwin explained. “My father was already off fighting. He returned, one of the few that did. He was a stern, aloof man, with little time for me. The day I joined the Army was perhaps when I saw the most emotion from him. He was afraid for me.”

Tony was quiet, respectful at Edwin’s wistful tone. He reached up and placed a hand over Edwin’s on his arm.

“My mother told me he was a changed man after the War. That before he was quiet, but gentle, with a great sense of humour and a breathless laugh.” 

Edwin looked down at Tony, brushing back a dark curl from his forehead. 

“I didn't quite believe her, but now with my own perspective, it’s easier to understand. Howard was different too, before the war and what followed. I don't say this as an excuse for him, or to comfort you on what a loss you will never know, but just so you may _know_ , Tony. The worst thing is not knowing.”

Tony nodded, a serious look on his face. “Did… did _you_ change? Like Dad?”

“I expect so,” Edwin admitted. “I suppose I became more selfish.”

“What?!” Tony gaped at him. “You’re not selfish!”

“I said ‘more selfish’, but thank you, Tony,” Edwin said with a grin.

“Still aren’t.”

“Before the war, I very much tried to win my father’s attention, his approval, his smile. The more I failed, the harder I tried.” Tony squirmed in his seat, obviously seeing the similarity. “I dedicated time in the service to others, I was successful, I was an aide to a general, I was well respected. Still - nothing. And then…”

Tony stared up at him, enthralled. “And then?”

“And then I met Ana.”

They shared a soft smile at her name. “Oh.”

“I met Ana and realised that, for all the hard work I'd done, I wasn't truly happy. That all this time I had worked not for myself, but others, and a man that had never granted me that same happiness.” Edwin thought back to those first days with Ana. “But with Ana, I had never been happier. And I became selfish over my happiness with her.”

“Ana _is_ awesome.”

Edwin chuckled at that but nodded. It was true. “I feared for her life with the Nazi threat, and my attempts at saving her only threatened us both. Until Howard stepped in. He saved us.” 

Tony looked down at their hands. “But, you're still working for others? I thought you said that didn't make you happy.”

Edwin leaned across to drop a kiss on Tony’s head. “It’s different caring for those you love, isn't it?”

The boy kept his head ducked, but Edwin spotted his pleased smile and red cheeks. Edwin drew him closer.

“Listen, Tony, love your father, but change for no one but yourself. You cannot live your life for someone else. It’s yours, and you must live it as your own. Be selfish in that, if nothing else. Learn to be good to yourself, so that you may be good to others.” 

Tony was staring at him, laser intensity, absorbing every word. 

“Howard, the company, the world, they will never stop watching you, never stop having expectations of you. It’s a sad truth. You must find it in yourself to be strong against that.”

Tony threw himself out of his chair and into Edwin’s arms, wrapping his arms around his neck, “I don't think I'm that strong.” He still didn't cry, but Edwin felt each shuddering breath against his skin. He held Tony tightly, watching the sky turn inky dark.

“You are. You're a good boy with a big heart in a cruel world,” Edwin whispered to him. “Protect that, be selfish about who you give that heart away to.”

“Stark men don't cry,” Tony’s voice wobbled, repeated words from Howard.

Edwin shook his head, “What else does he say?”

“Stark men are made of iron.”

“That’s right,” Edwin rubbed his back. “Whatever the world may throw at you, what trials you will face, what challenges, I have faith that you will stand strong against them. Because you are an iron man. Because you are Tony Stark.”

* * *

**_2016_ **

There was a possibility that Sharon’s face was going to become stuck in that scowl permanently.

At least, that was what Tony heard happened. 

“Look, it’s a solid plan-”

“This isn't a plan,” Sharon hissed. “This is you getting _tortured_.”

“It wouldn't be the first time!”

As soon as he’d said it, Tony realised that it wasn't the comforting statement he’d been aiming for. If anything, Sharon only looked angrier. Her glare kept looping between Tony, the guards outside, and the cameras around the cell.

Tony scrubbed at his face with one hand, blowing out a huge sigh. “Okay, so it’s not a pleasant plan. It still needs to happen. It’s our best chance at getting out.”

“A plan where you deliberately endanger yourself is not acceptable!” Sharon shuffled closer, nearly nose to nose. “Get that into your head, Tony. We’ll do something else. There’s got to be something else.”

“Sharon-”

But Sharon wasn't listening, mind racing with plans.

“When they come, we fight, get a hold of one of their comms. We can piggyback off their broadcast system and send out a distress signal of our own, make our way to the control room, hole up there until help arrives. I think we can take them the two of us. And people will be looking for you by now-”

“ _Sharon!_ ”

Tony gripped the back of her neck, fingers twisting in the blonde waves, tugging enough to pull her into him for a hug. Sharon dropped her head onto his shoulder, voice shaky and scared, “Please, don’t make me watch them hurt you.”

“Nah, they’ll probably take me elsewhere anyway.” Sharon whined against his throat, and Tony wrapped an arm around her. “No, c’mon, that’s the _point_. The longer I'm out there, the better our chances that someone picks up my homing beacon.”

“You could do that if we just got one of their radios.”

“Their system’s intentionally off the grid to make it harder for prisoners to contact the outside world, all the guard comms only reach others within the facility. No cell phones. Only the control centre has access to a broadcast frequency that reaches beyond the prison, for air traffic and things, unless you use your own spyware onboard.” 

Tony pulled back far enough to see Sharon’s face. 

“And even you, my badass baby agent, are not going to be able to fight them all off long enough for us to reach the control centre and have me do my thing.”

He leaned forward to kiss her forehead and found himself just staying there, nose brushing her hairline, just taking comfort in Sharon’s warmth and pretending that he wasn't trembling inside at the thought of what lay ahead. 

It was just pain.

Tony could handle pain.

Pain was no stranger to him.

Sharon pressed closer, eyes closing as she tried to collect herself. What Tony said had made sense. And she hated that, because when Tony made logical sense it was the worst thing ever. She had to try and come up with another plan. Sharon couldn't just let herself watch Tony get carried out to get tortured. There _had_ to be some other way. She’d _make_ another way.

Outside, the guards abruptly straightened where they stood. One reached up to his comm, murmuring quietly into the radio.

“Something’s up,” Tony said.

Sharon reached out, linking her fingers with him. She didn't take her eyes off the guards and felt Tony’s breaths ruffle her hair.

*

Jim needed another tablet for all the screens he was pulling up. Even using the hologram feature Tony had put in his tablets, things were getting crowded. He’d waved away the nurses twice already, absorbed in all the information in front of him. 

As always, since the call had gone through and Natasha had connected him to the feeds from the Raft, Jim’s eyes drifted briefly back to the screen showing Tony and Sharon in their cell. Natasha’s bug was updating them live on the security cameras, but it wasn’t a locator. Natasha hadn't factored in that the Raft wouldn't stay in one place, her bug was basically a long-range telescope with no landmarks to work from. 

It had been a relief though to see that they were alive, even if Tony wasn't in the best condition.

But as Jim’s eyes drifted to do a quick check on the cell again, he froze. The guards outside their cell were moving to the door, standing tall and upright and fidgety.

“Natasha, any idea what’s got the guards twitchy?”

The redhead bowed over a tablet of her own on screen, fingers flicking across the surface rapidly. Her jaw went tight. “There’s a helo inbound for the facility, ATC’s guiding them in now.”

“Skull?”

Natasha nodded jerkily.

Rhodey dropped back against his pillows, feeling terrified for his friend. If Red Skull was back - from who knows where, no one had been able to keep track of the fake Secretary of Defence - that could only mean one thing for Tony.

* * *

**_2010_ **

“Sir, Mr Sousa is requesting entry into the workshop.”

Tony quickly closed the display and looked up, seeing Michael waving at him through the glass doors. He looked concerned. “What?”

“Mr Sousa is here to see you.”

“Right,” Tony remembered now, glancing at the minimised icon on his display. He sighed wearily, rubbing his chest. “Right, time to put on a performance.”

“Sir, might I remind you, I do not recommend this plan of yours,” JARVIS said.

Tony rolled his eyes, “Yes, for the _millionth_ time, _I'm aware_.”

“My behavioural analysis disagrees with the outcome you're predicting for Mr Sousa. The plan will not succeed.”

“Yeah, well, you don't know how cruel I can be.” Tony stared at Michael. “Let him in.”

The doors opened with a quiet hiss, and Michael walked quickly inside. There was grey in the dark hair at his temples and widow’s peak, but he was as tall and strong as ever. There was also a look of concern on his face as he approached Tony. The genius locked his emotions in a box and threw it to the back of his mind.

“Sousa.”

Michael faltered at the cold greeting. “Tony.”

Tony grunted and turned back to his desk, staring at the blank screens. “What do you want? I'm busy.”

“Pepper let me in. I heard about Monaco,” Michael said. “I was worried. You didn't call or anything.”

“Busy. Aren’t you paying attention?”

He heard Michael sigh, and a part inside of him twinged, but he pushed it down. “Are you alright?”

“Always.”

“What are you- Tony, look at me!” Michael turned Tony around to face him. “Rhodes just walked out of here looking scared, the last time I saw him scared… What’s going on?”

“Oh, like you really care.”

Michael flinched, confused, and it hurt Tony to see.

“You and your family, you say you're there for me, that you care about me, but the reality? _I've_ had to sneak around to see any of you. _I've_ had to spend birthdays alone, attend my fucking parents’ _funeral_ alone, because none of you could be seen with me in public!” Tony’s voice rose with every word. “I've given you time and tech and love, and you've given me _nothing_ in return!”

“Tony, that isn't true!” Michael gasped.

“You might’ve saved me from Afghanistan if you’d’ve accepted a spot with Rhodes on detail, but _no_ , can’t have any _fucking_ ties with me!”

Michael looked grey and pale. “I came for you-”

“Afterwards,” Tony snarled. “I have wasted enough of my time on your family. No more.”

“Tony, you can’t think-”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“There were security reasons, safety reasons, you _know_ why we all kept our ties private-”

“Really? Because I don't recall being asked.”

“We- we _never_ asked you for any of that stuff. Tony, if I’d known that’s what you thought-”

“What am I supposed to think?” Tony scoffed. “Even now, you're here because _I_ didn't call you. Phones work two-ways, Sousa. When’s the last time any of you called or came to see me, without it following one of my usual disasters? When it was just you thinking of me?”

“It’s hard for Mom to travel so far.”

“And the rest of you?” Tony shot back. “Do we even know where the fuck Hal is, right now - what the fuck does he even _do_? - Sharon’s pretending she’s not a Carter, so that’s no contact from her either. And _Peter_ doesn't know we even fucking exist! He is as alone as I was. Still am. Alone, always alone.”

“Tony-”

“He’s ten now, and he has no idea what his mother was like… who his uncle is… where do I even show up on the family spectrum? Nowhere.”

“That’s not true,” Michael insisted, reaching out.

Tony slapped him away. 

Michael gaped at his struck hand. Tears welled in his eyes.

“…I don't know where Hal is, what Sharon chooses to do in her life is her decision, and if I never know Peter... at least I'll know he’s safe,” Michael said softly, mournfully. “Tony, you're my baby godbrother. You’ve always been family. You’re all I have.”

Michael reached out and grabbed Tony by the shoulder, ignoring the hands batting him away. 

“ _I love you_.”

Tony bared his teeth and sneered, “Get out.”

Michael released him like he’d been burned, staggering back from Tony. His mouth opened and closed, but he found nothing to say. He struggled for a minute longer, before his shoulder slumped. The hurt on top of the worry on top of the fear on top of the- Michael couldn't think straight after those venomous words.

“I'll- I'll see you later, Tony,” he muttered as he left the workshop.

Tony busied himself, putting away the cigar box Rhodey had left out earlier. He stared blankly at the used palladium cartridge left behind, rubbing at the itching around the reactor. 

“Mr Sousa has left,” JARVIS said.

“Ok. Good. Great.”

“Sir.”

“Not now, J.”

“Hurting Mr Sousa now does not ensure not hurting him later,” JARVIS continued. “I believe it in your best interests to tell him the truth. Perhaps he can help you, or at least provide more support-”

“I said,  _no!_ ” Tony growled, hurling the used cartridge across the workshop and frightening DUM-E.

JARVIS watched his creator reaching a hand up to gently cover the place Mr Sousa had held his shoulder before. All algorithms and streams of data analysis on interactions between Sir and Mr Sousa suggested that this departure would not spare Mr Sousa the pain of grief in the event of Sir’s death, perhaps even increase it, but Sir was stubborn. Time was running out. 

JARVIS would have to arrange for a reconciliation after he ensured that Sir was not dying. 

* * *

**_2016_ **

Sharon planted herself in front of the glass when Red Skull arrived, no mask this time. Tony tugged her wrist, trying to twist her to stand behind him, but not this time. _No._  

Whatever was to come, Sharon was not going down quietly. Red Skull would have to _rip_ Tony from her hands if he wanted him. And he would, Sharon wasn't stupid, she was heavily outnumbered and outgunned, but she’d stand here - between him and Tony - anyway. They were going to have to get through her first.

“Don’t do this,” Tony hissed, pleading with her. “You don't have to get hurt-”

Sharon scoffed at the irony.

“I need you fit and healthy for after,” Tony insisted. “For the escape. I won’t be well, _you_ need to be to get us out.”

“Tony, shut up.”

Red Skull meandered to the control monitor, eyes locked with Sharon as he slid a finger across the screen and the bars and glass between them lifted.

Sharon was ready. 

_No, no, no, stick to the plan! Stick to the plan!_

Tony was not.

The fight was brutal and angry and fast. 

Sharon took out the two closest to the glass within seconds, but more men flooded in, and Red Skull didn't seem worried. Sharon screamed suddenly, as a taser baton whipped her across her back. She fumbled the gun she’d managed to steal, and another baton struck flesh. More and more hits, until it became too much. 

Her muscles went rigid and her eyes rolled up as she toppled over.

Tony roared and tackled them, shoving them off as Sharon fell to the floor. She was limp, and Tony only managed to see that she was breathing before hands tore him away. He yelled and fought back, but Tony was carted away, his last glimpse of Sharon being bundled back into the cell.

Something bumped into his bad hand, and Tony blacked out for a minute or four, his mind losing track of the path the men were taking him. He regained focus in a small box room as Red Skull entered. Someone kicked out at his knees, forcing Tony to kneel on the cold floor, bad arm twisted to immobilise him. 

Skull shrugged off his coat, tossing it over the camera in the corner. He grinned, “I don't want to miss a thing you say, but it's harder erasing video footage. Luckily, I prefer audio-only for my favourite recordings. And I expect this will be a good one.”

Two men started to drag a metal tub filled with water into the room. 

* * *

**_2012_**

Tony awoke to JARVIS yelling, “ _Sir_! That’s the emergency alert triggered by the power dropping below 5%.”

And then Tony was yelling, as he fell and skidded across asphalt and trees and _was that snow_?!

“It’s snowing, right?” he asked. “Where are we? Upstate?”

“We are five miles outside of Rose Hill, Tennessee.”

Tony blinked in shock. “Why? _Jarvis_. Not my idea!” He was panicking. He had to get to Pepper. Who was now _states_ away.

“I prepared a flight plan! This was the location.”

“Who asked you?” Tony whined. “Open the suit.”

“I- I think I may be malfunctioning, Sir.”

“Open it, J.”

Tony regretted it almost as soon as the armour began unlatching. “That’s… brisk,” Tony blew hot air into his hands. “Maybe I’ll just cosy back up for a-”

“I… actually think I need to sleep now, Sir.”

“JARVIS?” Tony called, to no response. He tried again, tense, anxious, he could feel his panic building.

_Not again._

“Don’t leave me, buddy.”

_He couldn't lose Jarvis again._

Alone, again. Alone, always alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [tumblr](http://riverlander974.tumblr.com) is not so empty now guys! Visit and you can ask me stuff or follow any updates on my writing for the fic with the 'progress report' tag :)


	6. Hal

**_1987_ **

“Tony, please stop talking about my wife’s vagina.”

Hal watched as Tony gaped and then blinked, apparently realising the implications of the words he’d just been spewing. He shot Evelyn a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

Evelyn was grinning though, “No, no, go on.”

“I just got deep into the researching-”

“It’s really very useful for me.”

“-and I can get a little excessive-”

“Tony, really, it’s fine.” Evelyn patted her rounded belly. “It’s good to know that you researched all of this for me already. I feel much better prepared with a genius like you at my side.”

Hal had to grin watching Tony flush under Evelyn’s praise. Tony noticed, and shot him a burning glare that matched the colour of his cheeks. No one could get Tony to still blush like the women in his life could. Hal just kept grinning at the glare the teenager was shooting him over dinner. He was adorable to look at trying to be dangerous, especially with his hair styled and fluffed like that.

Hal reined back his grin when he got a slap on the back of his head. 

“You leave him be,” Evelyn scolded softly, eyes glittering. “It’s thoughtful, all that time you've put into this on top of your schoolwork. It’d be nice if the actual father of the baby took so much interest in what’s gonna happen to my vagina during this whole thing.”

Tony paled alarmingly. “Please, don’t.”

Evelyn grinned suddenly shark-like, and Hal remembered exactly why he loved her. Behind those sweet honey curls and bambi round eyes was a wicked sense of humour. “Tony, you must have known that the reproductive organs you were talking about were mine, all those little details were referring to-”

“ _Oh, god, stop please_.”

Evelyn laughed with that terrible snort that had Hal smiling sappily at her, he could feel in on his face. But he couldn't help it. He’d never felt so happy since the moment she’d announced the pregnancy. To be here with Tony now in their tiny little flat in Boston, after having not seen him in a while, with Thanksgiving around the corner, Hal didn't really care what his face was doing. 

Tony’s embarrassment didn't stop him from quickly going back to now listing off all the foods he’d discovered Evelyn wasn't to have while pregnant, exclaiming his horror at many of them. That came to a screeching stop when Evelyn twitched sharply in her seat. Tony flailed asking what was wrong.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Evelyn assured him. “The baby just kicked. It’s been enjoying the dessert too.”

Tony’s eyes immediately dropped to Evelyn’s belly.

“Would you like to feel?”

Hal watched Tony’s jaw drop as he stuttered out an answer that Evelyn ignored anyway, his wife reaching over and grabbing Tony’s hand and holding it to her belly. She shifted their hands around, and Tony was very quiet and entirely focused on his hand. Hal took Evelyn’s other hand, pressing a kiss to the back. 

“Remember when you two first met?” Hal asked with a smirk, nodding at Tony. “When this one here didn't think he liked you?”

“You just _eloped_!” Tony cried, eyes still fixed on his hand. “I didn’t know _who_ she was!”

“I swear he was more bothered about the whole thing than Aunt Peg.”

“You’d never even _mentioned_ Evie before-” He jumped. The baby must’ve kicked. “Doesn't that hurt?”

Evelyn shook her head, “A little discomfort mostly.”

Tony shuffled closer inhis seat, hand glued to Evelyn’s belly. “Do you guys know what you're having?”

Hal shook his head, pressing another kiss to Evelyn’s hand. “Nope. Total surprise.”

“Not even a guess?”

“Maybe it’s a boy, and we’ll name him _Harrison Francis Carter the Third_ ,” Evelyn sniggered. “The poor dear.”

Hal threw his head back with laughter, but Tony shook his head with a soft smile, rubbing gentle circles where he felt another kick. “I dunno… strong kick like that? Feels more like a girl to me.”

* * *

**_2016_ **

Sharon’s safe.

 _Sharon’s safe_ , Tony told himself, _she’s safe, they're all safe, they're all fine, so long as you keep your mouth fucking-_

Air-

Air-

Tony couldn't inhale quick enough, water up his nose, icy trails dripping into his eyes, stinging every open cut on him and _breathe you stupid fucker breathe_ the tub was still in front of him _they’ll push you down again soon so fucking BREATHE-_

“I still don't think he’s ready to co-operate.”

The grip was tight in his hair, the only thing holding Tony’s head up, all his energy gone into moving his lungs. Nothing else. There wasn't anything else.

Air-

“Again.”

Air-

_Water._

* * *

**_1978_ **

Hal couldn't breathe.

Or, he couldn't breathe without starting to cry. _The only one…_ Hal sucked in half a breath, _I'm the only one left_. He scrubbed at his eyes, scratching, digging in, trying to claw out the horrid images and make the tears _stop_ because they weren't helping anyone, least of all him. What was he going to do? He didn't have anyone. He couldn’t- he couldn’t-

“Oh, darling.”

Blinking heavy eyes, Hal looked up to see his aunt standing by the bench, still wearing her black dress. Her nose was red and her eye makeup smudged, revealing her own tears. She sat beside him and took his face in her hands, wiping Hal’s cheeks dry with a handkerchief, as though he wasn't sixteen and nearly a man. 

“Hal, darling, whatever happens, and whatever you think, you are _not_ alone.” Aunt Peggy tucked her hanky away and took his hand. “I'm here. I'm not leaving.”

He leaned into her, too tall to rest on her shoulder, but tall enough to lean his head on hers.

“Your father and I weren't that close,” Aunt Peggy said softly. “I didn't see my father’s side often after he met your grandmother, remarried, had your father… There was a big age difference, I was an adult when he was a little boy, but I loved him. He was my brother, and… well, I don't need to tell you how that feels.”

Hal focused on her voice, timing his breaths with hers. Aunt Peggy was warm in the cemetery, everyone else was cold under the freshly turned soil.

“Whatever you need, I'm here,” she said. 

Swallowing down the sharp lump in his throat, Hal turned to hide his face in her greying dark curls. “I don’t- I don't want to talk about- about _them_ , I can’t… I can’t…”

“Okay. That’s fine,” Aunt Peggy patted his hand. “Your cousins were terribly worried about you, you know? They were crying when I left, Michael mostly, but we couldn't all come.”

“Miss them.”

“They miss you too.” She ducked closer. “You know what? You’ll just have to come back with me.”

“But there’s the house!” Hal spluttered. “The- the bank things-”

“We’ll sort it all out together before we leave. I’ll help.”

“Don’t you have work?”

“Nothing that can’t wait. You are more important.” Hal didn't know what to say to that. But breathing seemed easier, somehow, knowing that she wasn't going anywhere. “Besides, you haven’t met Tony. I can’t let that stand, not meeting your little god-cousin.”

Hal managed a tiny smile as Aunt Peggy started in on one story after another about her beloved godson. In all the dark deep numbness, it was lightening to hear of a tiny precocious tinkerer and his antics, an ocean and miles away from this moment.

* * *

**_2016_ **

“No.” Tony’s throat was raw, it burned and yet was icy cold from the water. His nose burned too. It all burned with the chill. Every breath, every lungful. Still, “No.”

A rough hand grabbed his face, fingers digging into his cheeks. Tony forced his eyes open to see gleaming white teeth stretched into a red red grin. “I know men like you, Mr Stark. Pain is no stranger, you can dissociate from it. What you cannot escape is your own mind. Nothing tortures you quite like your mind can torture you.”

It was difficult balancing on his knees, the puddles made the floor slippery, and the rough bandages were itching and damp across his chest where it was pressed to the edge of the tub.

_Still-_

“No.”

The hand let go of his face.

“I see we’ve not dug deep enough yet. Again.”

Tony shut his eyes.

He breathed in.

* * *

**_2003_ **

“Sir, you have a call from Mr Carter.”

Tony raised his head from the schematic, stylus stuck in his mouth. He’d was struggling over these latest designs for Obie. Apparently, it hadn't impressed at the last board meeting, they wanted something ‘ _bigger, m’boy, something to really put a stop to the terrorists_ ’. But Tony was getting frustrated, no real passion in the project. 

He never liked weapons, for all that he was good at them. Body armour, surveillance equipment, algorithms, they were much more interesting to do. It was more interesting figuring out how to counter attacks from other people and other forces. Making the weapons though… Obie kept saying to dig deeper, unearth some hidden ruthlessness or rage, but Tony couldn't seem to find it. 

What he _really_ wanted to do was invest more time in his growing robotics division, but - to be fair to the board - they were making pennies compared to the weapons contracts SI had, they needed more of Tony’s efforts, a lot of people were depending on him for their living. He hadn't been making any progress for a few hours now though. 

A break could be good. “Put him through, J.”

The sound of a phone connecting filled the workshop.

“Hey, Hal, what’s up? Do people still say ‘what’s up? JARVIS, check that for me. DUM-E, no give that back, you stupid bucket of bolts-”

_“Tony…”_

He stilled at the sombre tone, turning away from where DUM-E had run off with his stylus. “Hal?”

 _“Ben just called Danny and Aunt Peg.”_ Hal sucked in a shaky breath over the phone. _“They- they had a visit from some government suits.”_

A creeping sense of foreboding rose in Tony’s belly.

_“Richard and Mary-”_

No _._

_“-their plane went down… there were no survivors-”_

“No!”

_“Tony-”_

“NO!”

 _“Hey! I need you to focus for me right now!”_ Hal snapped back over the phone. _“Danny collapsed from the news.”_

Tony shook his head, eyes painfully wide as he stared at nothing, his vision strangely grey. DUM-E trundled back, beeping inquisitively. “What?”

_“He’s in the hospital. It’s not looking good. Aunt Peg and Michael are with him, and Evie’s taking Sharon to join them.”_

“Which-” he scrambled up, sending odd things scattering from his desk in his hurry. “Which one-”

_“No, I need you with me on something else.”_

“What?” Tony stood in the middle of his workshop, feeling small, feeling Mary’s absence so overwhelmingly, it was like a part of himself was missing - another part missing - he hadn't been whole for ten years.

_“I’ll pick you up, I'm on my way. We’re not going to the hospital yet.”_

“Danny is- Danny is in the goddamn _hospital_ because Mary is- she’s- what the _fuck_ do you mean we aren’t going yet?!”

_“Peter. We have to go see Peter.”_

* * *

**_2016_ **

There was a hand holding Tony’s head up, clawing grip at the base of his skull forcing his head up to face Red Skull. He could barely see the crimson face, his eyes were aching and blurry from his tears and the water, and at this angle, his nose was blocked and Tony couldn't cough up all of the water he could feel still swilling inside him. 

“Mr Stark?”

Tony choked on a cough, a feeble trickle of coppery water dribbling down his chin. Red Skull grinned.

“I think you might be ready now.”

_Bzzz._

_Bzzz Bzzz._

Blinking owlishly, Tony said nothing for a moment. But then he began to smile.

Then he began to laugh.

_Bzzz._

_Bzzz Bzzz._

Red Skull didn't seem to like that, stepping back with a huff. “Put him in again. I think this should do it.”

The hands grabbed his neck and shoulders again, but Tony didn't care. He kept laughing breathlessly, not even remembering to suck in a lungful of air before his face hit the water again.

His tooth was humming, vibrating in his jaw as he grinned.

_Bzzz._

_Bzzz Bzzz._

That’s my girl.

* * *

**_1994_ **

Hal put his hands on his hips, shaking his head at the sight in front of him. “There you are.”

Two sets of brown eyes turned to him, identical innocent looks too, despite the cookie crumbs literally surrounding their mouths. Hal shook his head again, fighting back a smile. 

“She’s the one who found Aunt Peg’s cookies,” Tony said quickly, pointing at the tiny blonde sitting next to him on the desk.

Sharon gasped, pointing back at Tony, “Tony broke into the office!”

“Lies and slander,” Tony huffed, before pulling out a key from his breast pocket with an absurd wiggle of his eyebrows. “It’s not breaking in if you have a key.”

Betrayal apparently forgotten at Tony’s ridiculous face, Sharon giggled and picked unashamedly at the crumbs of what was left from Peggy’s stash of cookies. Hal rolled his eyes and stepped inside, lifting Sharon up into his arms. “C’mon, you're gonna miss the guests of honour if you in here.”

“But Daddy, Tony says that Mary’s bringing a _poopyhead_ ,” Sharon said, horrified expression on her face. “I don't wanna meet a poopyhead.”

Tony was snickering behind him, and Hal decided to ignore the idiot. “No, Tony’s mistaken, baby. No poopyheads, just Mary’s new boyfriend.”

Sharon’s eyes only widened, “But he says that’s _worser_.”

Tony sidled up beside them, an imploring look on his face, as he brushed off the crumbs on his suit, “It _is_ worser. Picking a man called-”

“Richard,” Hal cut in. “Richard, his name is _Richard_. Remember, not everything Tony says is-”

“Daddy! Didya know Aunt Peggy met a President?” Sharon crowed, pointing over his shoulder to one of the picture frames lining the desk. “Tony says he’s really important.”

“He is.”

“ _Cool_ ,” Sharon gaped at the photo.

Tony tucked a curl back neatly behind her ear and brushed the crumbs from Sharon’s cheeks, “Yup. All you Carters are just cool like that.”

“Me too?” Sharon turned big eyes on Tony. “I’m a Carter.”

“Sweetpea, I think you're the _coolest_.”

“Daddy!” Sharon squealed. “Daddy, Tony says I'm the _coolest_!”

Hal rolled his eyes - as if he hadn't been standing here listening to them both just now - and started to lead them back to the living room where everyone else was gathered. “Well, then I guess not everything Tony says is stupid.”

Sharon cackled her mother’s laugh in his ear at Tony’s outraged squawking behind them, and Hal muffled his own chuckles into her hair. 

* * *

**_2016_ **

“Colonel…”

Jim looked up from his legs ( _useless, broken, Tony needs you and you can’t even_ -) to see Vision with a strange expression on his face. Every expression was strange on his face, but this one was different. Hesitant, like Jim hadn't seen since the airport.

“Your phone.”

Vision was very carefully keeping his lips from moving too much, still facing the tablet Jim had shoved at him after the first time he had to listen to Tony choking on water.

The black screen hadn't helped, his imagination doing more than enough to fill in the blanks. Tony had never told every detail of what happened in Afghanistan, but Jim had guessed enough from just being around Tony after the battle with Stane. Water, someone had used water on Tony. And here Red Skull was, using it again. _How did he know?_

He also couldn't bear to face the screens that weren't black. Sharon, quiet and limp and alone in her cell. Natasha’s pale, pale face and thinning lips. Rogers’ face, just in general. Jim had thrown the hologram schematics over the bed and kept working on exit strategies, while Vision had taken the tablet to continue monitoring the live feed.

 _My phone?_ Jim glanced at his nightstand. A small notification lit up the screen. There was also no way Vision could possibly have seen it from where he was sat. _How did he know_ -

Jim practically threw himself around the bed reaching for the phone, unlocking it and staring desperately at the screen.

_MY GIRL: FOUND BOSS_

Jim gulped back a sob, jaw trembling as he looked over at Vision and gave a quick sharp nod, before turning back to his phone.

_RHODES: Send the co-ordinates._

The reply was nearly instantaneous.

_MY GIRL: TRUST TEAM?_

The question made Jim pause. _Did FRIDAY not trust the team?_  

She wasn’t… Tony had put more precautions into her code after Ultron, more than he’d set up in JARVIS, but he’d still left her a lot of freedom. She was another baby, and Tony loved his tech kids, would never strangle them like that, but he’d been so scared, so cautious. He’d even explained it all to the AI after Sokovia, been in tears as he’d told her what he planned to do.

But that devotion had always been returned in Tony’s creations. FRIDAY had been young but she’d still accepted the security measures put in place in her coding. Jim remembered how sad and proud Tony had been. Another show of proof of how different - how _human_ \- his real creations were, from whatever monstrosity Ultron had been.

And that humanity apparently even included the ability to question motives of other people, when it involved her creator.

_RHODES: You have any other suggestions?_

_MY GIRL: LEGACIES PROTOCOL._

Jim stared at the screen. He’d all but forgotten about that, a plan told to him one rare quiet evening with Tony. Another moment of trust from him, another glimpse into Tony’s fortressed heart. 

Now the question was - did Jim trust the team? Did he trust them with _Tony_? 

His fingers hovered over the screen.

* * *

**_2003_ **

Tony heard Hal follow Ben out of the room. Hal carried a box up with him, empty right now, ready to be filled with everything and anything that had any trace of the family Peter had that weren't Parkers by blood or marriage. Pictures, photos, presents…

 _Michael and Peggy have been making calls_ , Evie had called to say, reached out to anyone they knew for any information on what had led to the plane crash that had taken-

But nothing. It was all hushed up. Frighteningly so. No co-operation from the CIA. 

Peggy hadn't liked it, none of them had. But Mary had erased nearly all traces from her to the Carter family when she’d joined the Agency, it was difficult getting access to more information when no one knew that the agents who’d died had been your family. 

As far as the world knew, the only family Peter had in the world now were Ben and May.

And that… that was how it was going to stay, apparently.

Tony had screamed and raged at Hal as he’d been stuffed into the car, and the entire ride here, but Hal had stood firm. They didn't know who’d gone after Richard and Mary. If it was from their work, then Ben and May were the furthest place from that world, and Peter could be safe with them. All the more reason if the reason they’d… if it had anything to do with threats to _their_ family, Carters or Starks, then the greater the distance they put between them and Peter, the greater his chances of survival.

Michael would've cowed to Tony’s yelling eventually, he knew that. It had been smart of Peggy to send Hal instead. Hal, who helped stand Tony up again after Michael wiped away his tears and Mary ran off whoever’d upset him. Hal, who shared the same brand of British no-nonsense pragmatism as Peggy, and never let Tony’s wild emotions sweep them away.

By the time they’d arrived, Tony had accepted the decision. His head had been swayed and placated by every logical counter Hal had provided.

But standing here, staring at Peter curled up asleep in May’s arms, Tony was finding it much harder for his heart to accept the decision.

“Do you want to hold him?”

Tony was tempted, so very tempted, but he feared that once he held Peter in his arms there was a very real chance he wouldn't let go. And he _had_ to let go. 

So Tony shook his head and just drank him in with his eyes, not even daring to touch. Just memorising every detail, burning into his brain, the way Peter’s hair curled, the roundness of his cheek, the little mark on his chin. And behind those closed lids, Tony knew were Mary’s eyes. 

 _God_ , it hurt to even think about.

It was a half-relief that Peter was asleep, Tony didn't think he could face those eyes right now. 

But it hurt so much to know that Peter would never know him. That… that was…

Tony stepped forward, May watching him with sad eyes. He leaned closer, hand hovering just over Peter’s little back. When the boy breathed in, his back just brushed the palm of Tony's hand. It ached to touch him, to see little Peter breathing and know his mother would never-

“When Hal comes back,” Tony whispered, speaking fast and low. “He’ll tell you never to mention that we- that we’re family. He’ll say that this is goodbye. That you’ll never see us again.”

“I know Tony, I know.”

“I- I know you’ll look after him, that he’ll be…”

May reached out with a hand on his arm, and Tony blinked back hot tears. “We will, Tony.”

“But I want to tell you that if you need help, if you need a lawyer, a place to go, _anything_ ,” Tony’s throat felt raw, and he had to pause to breathe again, eyes never leaving Peter. “If you need anything, you can call me. I’ll be there.”

May stared at him, hand squeezing his sleeve.

There was the feeling of something cracking and falling loose in his chest as Tony stepped away, pulling free of May’s grip, his own hand dropping away from Peter. The next step back felt even harder.

Hal came back, the box was full now. Ben was at his side, looking horribly old and sad, wiping at his nose with a tissue.

“That’s everything, I think.”

Tony nodded, clearing his throat several times and moving to the door. He paused as Ben opened the door for them, “Oh, I’ll be transferring some money into your accounts, by the way.”

Ben started protesting, but Tony waved those away.

“It’s not… it’s just, seeing as I don't think we’ll be able to attend it, I still want it to be a good funeral, without you having to dip too deep into your savings.” Tony slipped on his sunglasses. “Don't worry, I won’t make it a habit. But you might get a generous Christmas bonus, here and there. Think of me as Santa’s handsomest little helper.”

May elbowed Ben when he tried to protest again, _I always knew I liked that woman_ , and Tony turned and left, leaving that apartment behind, with the last piece of Mary in the world. Leaving behind a little boy he loved. Another one torn away. He numbly followed Hal down the stairs to his car, silent as Hal put the box in the boot and started the car, heading to the hospital now. 

Before they’d reached the first traffic light, Tony had started to cry. Hal reached out, squeezing his hand as he cried too. 

* * *

**_2016_ **

The tub was in the corner now. 

Still full of water, but away from Tony for the minute. All he could concentrate on were the buzzing in his tooth and the water up his nose. He felt drained. Of energy, of air, of everything, just drained and so, so tired. 

But the hand holding his face up wouldn't let him rest.

“Are you with us, Mr Stark?” Skull asked. “Ready for some questions?”

“Fu…” The word caught in a swell in his chest. “Fuc…”

“Still resisting. Do you even know what I want from you?”

Tony slitted his eyes at him, “Wideawake.”

Red Skull laughed.

Threw his head back and laughed. It was a chilling sound.

“That’s a good guess, good guess,” he said. “We’ll get to that. But that’s not the only reason why you're here.”

Tony blinked muzzily up at him. _What?_ Red Skull loomed over him.

“No, Mr Stark. You're here to get me Captain America.”

*

Natasha stared at the black screen, trying to understand what had just been said.

_Cap?_

She knew Red Skull had it out for Steve, always had, but how was Tony going to get Steve for him? Even if Tony could - and she had no doubts Tony had a pretty good idea where they’d have gone to with the whole world out for them - Natasha knew Tony never _would_. 

He had the self-preservation instincts of a mayfly and the loyalty of an imprinted duckling.

Tony wouldn't give up Steve.

If Red Skull didn't know that, didn't realise, then that was one thing. That would mean this torture would be all for nothing, but it would have been a miscalculation and Natasha could work with that. She could work with Red Skull not having the whole picture, slip inside between the cracks in his plan, and tear it down from the inside. Tony just had to hold out and hold on, _and he would_.

 _But_ …

But, if this was all calculated, if Red Skull _knew_ something, then Natasha would be going in blind because she couldn't read him. Not from here, not through Tony’s screams. She couldn't think straight, too many parts of her were being pulled in different directions.

It had been easier when she hadn't cared.

“Me?”

Natasha looked to the side, saw a haunted look on Steve’s face as Barnes steadied him and guided him to a seat. She shook her head, turning back to the screen. Clint sent her an odd look, but said nothing and just shot her more notes to her screen on another dead-end he’d chased.

“Vision, we’re getting nowhere here. You got any other leads?”

“Ah… no.” The odd pause had Natasha turning to his vidscreen. “No new leads.”

She studied his face, always harder to read than a human’s, but she’d become familiar with Vision with their work. Natasha watched carefully. 

He didn't appear to be doing anything odd, from the shared screens Natasha could tell he was working as diligently as they were, faster even, but it was- _there_. The slightest flicker of his eyes away and back to the screen. 

_Vision was distracted._

By Rhodes? The man was still in a hospital for a reason, but if he needed help, Vision would've helped regardless of his macho protests, or a nurse would have come. Natasha doubted it was Ross intruding on their planning. Vision wouldn't have let him into the room - much less the hospital - and the Secretary of State was busy fighting it out against the UN anyway defending his decision to throw the team in prison without a trial. The only other thing that could be distracting Vision right now was if-

“You found him.”

Those metallic eyes honed in on her through the screen, pupils contracting, and Vision said nothing.

He didn't have to.

“You- you know where he is?” Steve stood from his seat, staring at the screen. “Where? We’ll- do we have a plan? Your Majesty, could we borrow a plane or-”

“I can’t tell you where Mr Stark is.”

Vision’s response silenced Steve, left him gaping at the screen, but Natasha wasn't surprised.

Steve apparently was.

“What do you mean ‘you can’t’?”

“I mean that _I_ do not have his location,” Vision answered him calmly. “That is only known to both FRIDAY and Colonel Rhodes.”

“Then get me Rhodes.”

“I will not.”

Steve glared, thumping a hand on the table. “You have no right to keep that kind of information from us! Tony needs us. We can help! What right do you have to-”

“What _right_?”

A deep power rang in Vision’s voice, and the stone in his forehead glowed as he locked eyes with Steve through the screen.

“Am I not an Avenger?” Vision asked. “Was it not you who said, _the safest hands are our own_? That we would be in charge of where we go, who we help, who we let help?”

“Not against-”

“Not against the team?” Vision shook his head. “It was not I who first stood against others in this team. And you left it. How does it feel to be on the other side of this balance? To know what those citizens of the one hundred and seventeen nations who called for the Accords felt? At the mercy of a superhero’s bidding, with no control, no way of stopping them.”

The hands on the table clenched into fists, and Natasha watched a muscle jump in his jaw. She could almost hear the grinding of his teeth.

“I do not say this to be petty. I don't believe I understand the sentiment. Rather, it is simply a matter of trust.”

Steve ducked his head, looking down at his fists. Sam stepped up beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. Clint kept watching Natasha though, something she could feel like a physical touch almost with its intensity. He was figuring her motives out, and she guessed he’d work them out soon enough. 

“And in the case of Mr Stark, I find myself doubting you.”

“Who’s going to save him then?” Sam asked. “Are you sure Rhodes won’t-”

“There are plans in motion. And I think you’ll find Mr Stark not incapable of taking care of himself.” Vision nodded confidently, “He has managed so far.” 

* * *

**_1978_ **

Hal was sixteen when he learned that his Aunt Peggy was the Director of a spy agency. 

He wondered how many secrets she held.

He wondered how many secrets he would keep too.

He’d seen what had killed his family. And he wasn't going to let them get away with it.

It wasn't anything human. 

But he couldn't risk what remained of his family getting killed too in his revenge. 

 _Secrets_.

The family trade.

* * *

**_2016_ **

Tony saw stars as Red Skull threw him to the floor by his neck, hitting his head on the ground and sending it ringing. He couldn't feel his tooth buzzing from the buzzing through his whole head. Spots danced in front of his eyes.

“He won’t come for me,” Tony spat at him. “I'm not his friend.”

Red Skull obviously didn't care. “I didn't say you were going to be his _bait_. In this world, I know such a bond between you doesn't exist.”

Tony frowned at him. “This world?”

A smile cut across Skull’s face like a scythe. “When the Cosmic Cube took me on that fateful flight of the Valkyrie, it didn't take me to Death. It led me to a new Master, and he showed me great and many things. Worlds beyond counting, so I may learn how to defeat the Captain, and better serve my Master.”

 _The multiverse theory?_ Tony hadn't heard of that one in a while, but it did come up every now and then at those conferences. But scientists were an odd bunch at the best of times. It wasn't even the craziest theory he’d heard in all his years.

“I couldn't understand it, you see, how Captain America kept defeating me,” Red Skull growled. “Even in the worlds where I killed him, his legacy lived on, and oftentimes he returned anyway. It was frustrating. I studied him, in many worlds, in many variations.”

“ _Stalker alert_.”

The kick to Tony’s chest was almost absentminded, but no less painful. 

It literally kicked the little air from his lungs.

“I couldn't understand it because I was not looking in the right place. His resilience was not found in reach of his shield or the reach of his forces, it was in someone else entirely.”

Tony dragged himself across the floor, away from Red Skull, but he couldn't escape him. How could he? He could barely sit up, and Skull just leisurely ate the distance up in a few strides.

“It was in _you_ , Mr Stark.” 

A boot pinned his bad arm to the floor, and Tony yelled at the pain that shot up from the breaks Skull was pressing against.

“So, I killed you.”

“As-as you do.”

“But it wasn't the result I expected.” Skull sounded peeved. “He mourned you, avenged you, and… moved on. I realised death hadn't prevented you helping the Captain. Other Tony Starks had left behind legacies and technology and contingencies to protect his Captain Americas.”

Tony was going to heave from the pain, but it hadn't made him deaf yet, and he was both fascinated and appalled at the telling of other _hims_ dead in other worlds.

“Even when they fought each other, the Starks always fought even harder for the Captains. When I killed Captain Americas, his deaths consumed the Tony Starks. They suffered, they destroyed themselves, and either bartered the world to bring Captain America back or lay waste to a world without him… It gave me a new perspective.”

Red Skull knelt down, leaning harder on Tony’s hand to bend over him. 

“ _He_ was always willing to give his life for the ‘good of the world’,” Skull hissed. “But _you_ were ready to sell your soul to do the same. _Pathetic -_  but I began to see a new plan. And my Master sent me back here. Back home.”

Tony shuddered as Skull reached out to cup his face, that red hand sliding down to rest on his throat, not pressing, just there, threatening. Feeling Tony’s thundering pulse drum under his fingers.

“I had to tear you apart from him, you see? Make every resource of yours untouchable to Captain America. That’s what Zemo was for. A useful tool, even if the good Captain didn't manage to kill you. No matter,” Red Skull leaned more heavily on Tony’s arm, making him shout. “When I present your corpse to the world, with your blood staining his shield, how do you think the world will act when I tell them Captain America killed Iron Man? I won’t have to kill him. The world he loves will do that for me. And you, Mr Stark…”

The hand around his throat slid up, nails biting into Tony’s cheeks as Skull tilted his head up to face him properly. 

“You will not have a quick death either.”

Tony heard the scrape of the metal tub across concrete, the splash of water within it more terrifying than every mad word Red Skull had just spewed.

“But until your last breath, we have time for other matters.” 

The tub was getting louder, getting closer, _no, no, no, not more_.

“About Project Wideawake, Mr Stark. What did you do to my Sentinels program?”

* * *

**_1980_ **

Tony looked comically small with his little hands in boxing gloves, but his eyes were determined. He copied what he’d seen Hal do, bopping hesitantly on his heels. Hal smiled at the cute sight, and stepped behind him, taking hold of his wrists to guide Tony in punching the bag in front of him.

“Like this - one, two! One, two!” Hal said, tugging Tony’s arms to mime the quick block-punch combo. 

But Tony was hardly paying attention now, cackling at the way Hal moving his arms made his whole body move funnily too. Hal shook his head and stopped the impromptu lesson, lifting Tony to dangle by his arms and up over his head to sit on his shoulders. Tony rested his gloved hands on Hal’s head with a giggle.

“Maybe I'm not the teacher for you for boxing.”

“ _Michael_ can teach me!” Tony crowed. “ _He_ knows how to fight!”

“I know how to fight!” Hal insisted.

Tony snorted.

“I just don't know how to _teach_. Or maybe it’s just you I can’t teach.”

“Nu-uh,” Tony shook his head exaggeratedly, Hal could feel it with how it made him sway side to side. “I'm a genius.”

“Genius who can’t box.”

“Hey!”

“You ‘hey’, I'm trying to teach you some moves to stand up to those boys you said were being mean to you.”

“But they’re _huge!_ ”

“There’s ways to beat that.”

“Mama says it’s not nice to hurt people though.”

“That’s true, but you should stand up for yourself too. And anyone that can’t help themselves.”

“But it’s _hard_ ,” Tony whined, slumping over Hal’s head. His boxing gloved hands dangled by Hal’s ears, like a bizarre pair of earrings. “How do you know who needs help anyway?”

“You ask,” Hal said simply. “And then you listen to what they say.”

Tony was quiet, digesting that piece of information as Hal carried him out of the basement and up to the kitchen where Uncle Danny had left out a platter of sandwiches. Hal sat at the counter, passing one of the sandwiches up to Tony and grabbing one for himself. 

“Hal?”

“Yeah?”

“Does Daddy hurt people? With the things he makes…”

Hal paused, turning over in his mind the best answer.

Tony always preferred the truth, even when it was ugly.

“Sometimes, people do get hurt from what he makes,” Hal admitted. “But other things he makes protect a lot of people too. What he does is important in keeping American soldiers everywhere safe, so they can come back home, to their families.”

“Like Michael will come back?”

“Yeah,” Hal nodded. “Stuff your Dad makes will be stuff that can one day keep Michael safe in the field after he finishes Basic. And he’ll be helping keep you and everyone else in America safe.”

He felt Tony’s little chin drop onto his head, and crumbs roll down Hal’s forehead. “I guess that’s okay then. If it protects people.”

Hal patted his leg and held up another sandwich to Tony’s grabby hands.

* * *

**_2016_ **

_Ri-ring… ri-ring… ri-ring-_

“Speaking?”

“Potts, I need the _Nautilus_.”

“I- what? You what?”

“The geeky submarine prototype Tony pimped out, I need it now."

“Who- _Michael_? Is that you?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **New Characters:**
> 
> Evelyn 'Evie' Carter née Myers - Hal's wife and work partner, Sharon's mother, major troll.


	7. Peggy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, _GUYS_ , I'm such an idiot. 
> 
> I thought I posted this yesterday, and it turned out I just hit save without posting after another read through and then just LEFT. I left to conk out in bed and leave it for a day like usual after posting, I only realised when I checked my Tumblr today and saw I'd forgotten to add a link up because - no duh! - _there was no link_. 
> 
> I'M SO SORRY.
> 
> Here it is. Sorry for the wait. I'm such a noob.

**_1989_ **

Tony kept grinning whenever his eyes drifted over to Hal, dancing in a slow circle, eyes locked on the baby in his arms blowing spit bubbles at him. He didn't usually find himself drawn to things that are usually ‘cute’ or anything, more used to a world where things are all metal and fire and chemicals, with no place for ‘cute’. But since Sharon’s arrival, Tony had found a way to carve out a place for ‘cute’, because that baby was fucking adorable.

She was all Hal, blonde and brown-eyed, except for when she smiled and laughed, where her mouth was the mirror of Evie. Tony kept finding himself distracted in class, and Rhodey had started teasing him about all his gushing and pictures, but never cruelly and always with a grin and hair ruffle. Tony was feeling really lucky about his roommate this year.

“Are you going to ask her for the next dance?”

Tony’s eyes slid away from Sharon to Peggy at his side, an amused expression on her face. She looked lovely in a red dress, the silver streaks in her hair shining where they curled in her updo. He grinned and pulled her into a one-armed hug, “Not when I have the birthday girl here all on her lonesome. Where’s Danny?”

“He took me for a spin and has to sit for a while now,” Peggy said, pointing to where he was talking with Jarvis and Howard at a table eating more cake. Michael was carefully spinning Ana around in a gentle dance, while in contrast, Mary was nearly throwing Evie around the room, elegant twirls that effortlessly shifted into a perfect tango, matching whatever Maria played at the piano.

It was the happiest Tony had seen both his parents in a while.

Then again, he hadn't been home much to see them. 

For the first time in ages, the mansion was filled with the sound of music and laughter, not the tension and bitterness like it had lately. With the big party before with nearly all the Commandos and their families, and now the quieter after-party, just a few of them together.

“No frowning on my birthday,” Peggy insisted, poking that one spot on Tony’s side that made him yelp and giggle. Thank fuck Rhodey hadn't found it yet. 

“No frowns. I promise,” Tony said, grinning at his godmother.

She seemed satisfied, turning back to watch her children dancing in the middle of the room. 

Tony took her in, her profile that hadn't changed in his whole life, as proud and beautiful as he’d always remembered. Sixty-eight and still as fierce as ever. He realised for the first time that, other than Danny, he’d never seen Peggy dance with anyone. Not even Michael or Mary, but that was maybe down to Michael hating to dance and Mary’s over-enthusiastic approach to dance. Tony had suffered more than one accident being her dance partner before, he wouldn't blame Peggy for avoiding it. 

Still, it wouldn't do to have the birthday girl not dance more than once on her birthday.

“Would you like to dance?” Tony asked, weirdly nervous once Peggy turned her gaze to him, and feeling the need to clarify. “With me?”

A slow smile pulled at her lips, ruby red with lipstick. She said nothing, but held out a hand.

Tony took her hand, wondering absently if his palms felt sweaty. But the smile didn't falter off Peggy’s face as they joined the others. It felt strange wrapping an arm around Peggy’s waist like that, stranger still when he started them in a simple waltz around the room. 

Tony felt clumsy and awkward, but Peggy just beamed, letting him lead her about the floor. She never let anyone lead. Even Daniel didn't lead, mostly because he couldn’t and had to lean on her when they danced.

And yet, here Tony was, _leading_.

“Is this okay?”

There was a soft look in her eyes, nostalgic almost. “This is perfect.”

They weren't at all in time with the music, but then Maria had moved onto a fast ragtime number, and none of the dancers were paying much attention to keeping time, simply enjoying the music. But it was strangely like a bubble encased them, the music slower and muted as Tony danced with his godmother.

“Are _you_ okay?”

Tony received a kiss on the cheek for that, making his face heat and setting Hal laughing. Sharon joined in, so Tony couldn't even glare at Hal and upset the baby accidentally. Smug bastard was already using his baby to his advantage.

But Tony was waiting for a proper answer from Peggy.

“Darling, I've never been better,” she said. “I have all of you here.” 

A sombreness and joy were both combined on Peggy’s face, an odd mix, but Tony didn't think she was lying about being alright. So he let it go. 

They danced until they were the only ones still dancing, Maria having left the piano for a drink and handed the music over to the turntable, a soft jazz melody playing. 

Danny caught Peggy by the elbow with a faint half-smile as they slowed to a stop, and Tony watched him lead her out to the balcony, Peggy blinking a lot. Tony frowned and felt a presence at his side, turning in surprise to find Howard looking at him with an odd expression. _What was with everyone and looking at him strangely tonight?_

“Did I upset Aunt Peg?”

Howard paused to look down at his scotch, swirling it in its tumbler before answering. “No. No, I don't think you did anything to upset her.”

Tony looked back at Danny and Peggy on the balcony, huddled together, his arm wrapped around her, her head tucked under his chin. “Are you sure?”

“Mmm,” Howard nodded, taking a large sip of his drink, eyes on the couple as well. “It’s just been a long… a long day. Lots to think back on when you get to a birthday at our age. Don’t think too much on it.”

He left Tony to refill his glass, and Tony returned to his seat at the table. He picked at the leftover icing from the cake and wondered what Peggy had been thinking of when they’d danced.

* * *

**_2016_ **

Tony hung over the edge of the tub. 

It was a horrible place to be, _would not recommend_ , but he couldn't work up the energy to move from that position. At least his face was above the water. Just. It was threateningly close, but only close. 

“You know, Mr Stark,” Red Skull spoke from one side, comfortably sat in a chair he’d had brought in. Lucky him. “I tried to recruit your counterpart in one world.”

“Did you,” Tony watched a droplet roll down the end of his nose and ripple the water in the tub.

“It would have been glorious, your technology and my vision. A cleaner world. A better one.”

A dead one, Tony imagined, a world where Skull had his Jerichos or worse.

“But it didn't work. He refused.”

Tony managed a tiny grin, _go other me_. 

“I killed him.”

If he had the energy, Tony would've rolled his eyes at that predictable response. He was noticing an obvious pattern with how Skull dealt with Tony Starks.

“I can kill you too.”

“ _I know-_ ”

“No, I don't think you do. I learn from my mistakes, you see.” A hand pulled his hair, and Tony grunted as his head was lifted. He almost preferred the view of the water, if it didn't make him shake and sweat as it did. “This is an offer, Mr Stark. A kind one.”

“To kill me?”

“To kill you _quickly_.” Tony snorted. “I wouldn't laugh if I were you. You have no idea what’s coming, and I'm offering you a way to avoid it.”

“Not really the type to avoid trouble.”

Skull rose from his seat, footsteps echoing on the metal flooring as he drew closer. “Aren’t you tired?” 

A red finger ran down Tony’s face. It made him want to peel off his skin to get rid of the touch. It wasn't the first time either. 

“Tired of fighting for a world that won’t save itself?” Tony didn't know if Skull was trying to sound sympathetic or something, but he was missing it by a long shot. “Tired of being the last one standing? Tired of having to keep fighting? Tired of watching your friends die.”

Tony flinched.

“And they will die,” Skull said. “One by one. You’ll see it. You’ll be helpless to stop it. Even the ‘great Tony Stark’ can be no match against my Master alone. And when they're all gone, when there’s no one left to fight for, when there’s no one left to save, _then_ Mr Stark, then you will die.”

It was horrible. An exact image of one of the nightmares that plagued Tony still. Since Ultron. Since before.

The last of them.

He couldn't think of anything worse than being the last of them.

“So you see, Mr Stark, I can be kind.”

Red Skull leaned closer.

“Don't make the same mistakes of your counterparts. Tell me how to activate the Sentinels, and I will grant you a merciful end. What follows after… well, that will no longer be your concern. You can rest at last. What do you say to that?”

* * *

**_1984_ **

“Where are we going?” Tony asked.

Peggy looked at him as they stepped out of the car, dressed smartly and with a pair of sunglasses across his nose, already learning how to disguise himself a little when out in public. It was both adorable and heart-breaking to see. She held his hand tighter.

“Is that the theatre?”

“It is,” Peggy grinned. “We’re going to see a show.”

“What show?”

“An old friend of mine wrote and acts in it, she’s invited us to watch and see her backstage later.”

Tony looked around them, “Where are the others? Is it just us?”

“Yes,” Peggy said simply. Michael wasn't in the country, and Mary was busy studying for an important exam. Daniel had technically been free to join them, but it wasn't the only performance they had tickets for, he wouldn't miss anything, and Angie was coming to visit them while she was in town later. He’d elected to stay at home so that tonight- “It’s just you and me, Tony.”

His eyes went round behind his dark lenses. “Really?”

Peggy leaned down to place a smacking kiss on his forehead, leaving a red smudge behind. “Are you prepared to be my date for the evening?”

Tony straightened his back, and stuck out an elbow, as he’d seen men do, no doubt. 

Peggy only had to stoop a little to link her arm in his, and they started making their way into the theatre. 

“So, what’s the show about then?” Tony asked.

“It’s actually inspired by a mixture of several stories that I told herof mine.”

“Really?!” Tony gasped, always a fan of her old stories.

“Yes. I think Angie is playing our old apartment manager. She’s been having fun playing old and strict and such. I expect that will be _quite_ the spectacle.” Peggy handed their tickets over to the usher. “It’s about one of my old nemeses, and my early days in espionage.”

“Awesome!”

“Yes. She had to change my character into a man, of course, because apparently the idea that two women would fight like that was preposterous.” Tony blew a raspberry, makingPeggy smile. “Still, Angie wrote quite the piece. Gunfights and femme fatales and musical numbers. It’s had very good reviews, but I'd expect nothing less.”

“What’s it called?”

The doors opened and Peggy led them to their seats, Tony practically skipping at her side with excitement, making their linked arms bounce. 

“ _Aunt_ _Peggy_ , what’s the show called?” Tony asked again.

Peggy tucked him into his seat, handing him the playbill she’d bought for him as she took her own seat. The smear of lipstick was still on his forehead, and Peggy looked at it fondly, not sure as always if Tony had left it because he didn't care or because he liked it. 

She decided to leave it too, no one was going to see it in the dark of the theatre, and it would be fun to see if Tony got embarrassed about it later when they went to see Angie. She was apparently ‘ _dying to meet that little sweetheart’_.

Tony looked down at the program, at the silhouetted man and woman on the cover, guns pointed at each other in front of a neon-lit diner, and in big dramatic print across the top-

“Underwood.”

* * *

**_2016_ **

Sharon groaned, groggy, her muscles all aching as she opened her eyes. 

She was in the cell again.

 _Alone_.

Squeezing back the tears in her eyes, Sharon curled up on the floor, hoping that Tony’s signal had gotten through. That this would be worth it.

*

“Will you tell us who Rhodes sent?”

Clint had to admit, Steve didn't really know when to quit. Not when it was something important to him. You could admire it, in a way, but Clint had seen how destructive it could get too. Clint didn't say anything this time, not when he wanted to know who had been sent to rescue Tony and Sharon too. He never pretended he was the most objective.

“Is it someone we know? Is it Dr Banner?”

“It is not Dr Banner, Captain.”

With their location known, Natasha had switched her attention fully on the actual escape plan for the mystery team when they reached the Raft. Clint wondered if _she_ knew who the team was.

He watched her plan on the screen, breaking it down in his head. She was building operations based on four- or six-man teams, _guess she doesn't know the other team for sure either_. Nat must’ve known _something_ about a few of the team members though, there were a few common factors in the plans. But Clint wasn't sure if that meant she knew them personally, or if Rhodes had sent her the info quietly.

“Please, can I talk to Rhodes?”

“He is busy co-ordinating with the rescue team.”

Someone on the team knew how to pilot an underwater vessel, though the vessel itself wasn't referred to anything other than _Nautilus,_ which Clint thought was a ridiculous moniker, _wasn't that from a movie or something?_ There was sure to be a medic on the team, they had to know the state they might be finding Tony in. Definitely some sort of tactical specialist, Clint guessed, from the routes Natasha was planning. Two, possibly, seeing as she kept suggesting the team split when they entered the Raft.

“If you won’t tell me, will you tell Natasha? Or T’Challa? Just in case your team doesn't succeed.”

“I consider that a poor plan.”

Half the team would head straight for the control room, to gain control of the Raft. That would be difficult, heading through a lot of guards and defended territory, making a lot of noise, _distraction_. Had to be a good fighter to get through that, and then tech-savvy enough to override the Raft’s systems. The other half of the team, from what Clint could see, would be full stealth. Natasha was planning for them to be a quick retrieval of the prisoners and back onto the underwater vessel.

Then there was _that_ part of the plan that had Clint completely confused.

Were they planning on boarding the Raft while it was still _under water_?

“What? Why?You trust them, don't you?”

“Having the King of Wakanda apparently attack the Raft would be an international political disaster on top of the one already present regarding Ross’ illegal imprisonment of your team. And it would not be wise to have Agent Romanov involved in the plan, not only due to the fact she is a fugitive herself.” Vision shook his head. “Any benefit to Mr Stark’s rescue would be negated by the consequences that followed.”

“What’s Wideawake?” Clint interrupted them, pinning Natasha in her seat with his eyes. 

She hadn't looked surprised by the name. He knew Nat knew what it meant. It had to be something big and bad for Skull to want it. It could be some sort of tech if Tony was involved. T'Challa didn't look like he knew, but then he’d maintained a pretty impassive expression since he’d arrived.

Natasha looked away, but only ended up in Sam’s line of sight. Steve was looking at her now too, turning his attention away from trying to coax the location from Vision.

“Nat,” Clint called her back to him. “What is it? What’s Stark hiding? What are _you_ hiding?”

She heaved a sigh, those green eyes on his, mouth pursed. “I didn't find out until after I signed, but it’s something Stark’s known of for a while. I don't know how long. Everyone seems to be too good at keeping secrets.”

“Agent Romanov-”

Natasha shook her head at Vision through the screen, “They need to know.”

The synthezoid stared at her for a moment, but he didn't say anything more to stop her. She turned to face Clint again.

“It was a plan cooked up by some of the government, Ross obviously, but others too. A worst-case scenario reaction to the rising superhuman numbers in the world. An extreme case of fear of their powers.”

“The ‘something’ that had been worse on the table?” Clint supplied.

She nodded. “A programme to identify all superhumans, and those with other exceptional abilities that could become a threat, and round them up, have them monitored, imprisoned if they resisted, or employed if their powers were found to be useful.”

Clint went pale, eyes turning to an equally pale Wanda on the other side of the room. Natasha noticed.

“The restraints used on Wanda on the Raft were only for transport before she would've been moved to a more secure holding facility built specifically for her,” Natasha said. “That was only the beginning.”

"And Tony knew about this?” Steve gaped. “It’s _barbaric!_ ”

“It is, and he knew, and he’s been _fighting_ it. A big part of the project involves a mechanised task force, Sentinels, to round up the superhumans. Like the Iron Legion’s bigger angrier brother. Like-”

“Like Ultron’s forces.”

“What do you think gave them the idea?”

Steve leaned on his fists, still on the table, shoulders up by his ears. “What did he do?”

“He suppressed support for Wideawake by raising the issue of the Accords, what do you _think_ he did, Steve?” Natasha tiredly rubbed at her eyes. “It seemed to appease them, and more importantly, appeased the nations angry at the US government. Involving the UN meant there was a level of transparency offered that kept Wideawake supporters quiet. But he’s a paranoid son of a bitch, Stark, wanted to make _sure_ there wasn't the chance of it coming up. Or at least, no chance of Wideawake being successfully implemented.”

Clint snorted, leaning his head back with a slow smirk, “Tony sabotaged the Sentinels.”

“Destroyed most of them, and their designs,” Natasha said with a matching smirk. “What he couldn't destroy, he installed algorithms all over the world to actively counter them. Basically, any new ones built won’t work.”

“So Skull’s screwed unless Tony gives up the codes to stop those algorithms,” Clint said.

“He won’t give them up,” Natasha said confidently. “And even if he did, it wouldn't work.”

Barnes huffed, an admiring look in his eyes. “Stark split the codes, didn't he? And you… you have part of them. You didn't leave him. He sent you away.”

Natasha lifted her chin. “… It’s not a code.”

* * *

**_2010_ **

Tony hummed to himself as he opened the door, utterly stunned when he stepped through and got a bouquet of flowers thrown at his face. He stood, stock still, and stared down at the bruised sunflowers and scattered petals around his shoes. He took his time looking up again, a sheepish look already painted on his face.

“So you got my flowers-”

“ _Dying?_ ”

Tony cringed at Peggy’s screech. “In my defence-”

“ _DYING?!_ ”

“Aww, c’mon, Peggy,” Tony hurried to her side. She was absolutely red in the face, eyes wet, with a terribly fierce frown on her face, where she sat in her wheelchair. “C’mon, look, I'm okay now. It’s all fixed up, all good now.”

“But it _wasn’t_ before, was it? Bloody Starks!” Peggy’s accent was particularly sharp and lethal right now. “Pepper called me, because at least _she_ knows how to use a phone. But she didn't know half the story, so I had to call Jim, who told me- Michael was in _tears_ , we saw the Expo on the news and he thought you’d died and that the last time you saw each other you’d had a stupid fight!”

“He’s here too?” Tony looked around, as though Michael was going to magically appear. “Should _you_ be here? He said it was difficult for you to travel so far.”

“I have dementia, I'm not dead.”

Tony winced at the reminder. 

Wrinkled fingers caught his chin, a thumb brushing his goatee, as Tony was turned to face Peggy again. “I know I'm not all… that I'm forgetting things more. That the last time you came to see me, it didn't go well. But I'm still here. I’m still here for you. Aren't I?”

“Of course you are, Aunt Peggy,” Tony dropped to his knees to hug her as tight as her frame could handle. He felt her press a kiss to his forehead and felt like a child again. “I'm sorry.”

“I forgive you,” Peggy said immediately. “You silly boy.”

A part inside of Tony that had been wound tight since his first decision to keep his palladium poisoning a secret finally relaxed, and he leaned more heavily into Peggy. She held him easily, brushing a hand down his back in a soothing motion. 

“You’re definitely all healed up?”

“Yes, I promise.”

“Good,” Peggy dropped another half dozen kisses across his face, Tony basking at the affection. Tony knew if she’d been wearing lipstick, his face would be absolutely covered in red by now. “Now, there’s something else I need to talk to you about.”

Tony frowned as the serious tone returned. “What is it?”

Soft hands cupped his face. “I’m moving into a home.”

“No.”

“Tony-”

“No- I can- you can move in with me. Yay, Aunt Peg and Tony as roommates! Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“Tony, I've made my decision,” Peggy said, firm even in the face of Tony’s big eyes. “Michael’s taken enough time away from work looking after me - no, I know he doesn't mind, but I see how much he misses work. And it’s only going to become more difficult caring for me, and I don't want you to see me… like that… to have another visit like we had last time…”

“Peggy, I said it was fine…”

“While I'm still capable of deciding, I want this,” Peggy said. “I want this. Who knows, if Michael hadn't had to look after me, perhaps he could have been helping you through this.”

Tony screwed his eyes shut and hid his face away in her hair, all grey now, still as beautifully curly.

“It’s a nice place in DC,” she assured him, playing with a curl on Tony’s head. “I won’t be alone there either. Michael says that Jones is there too with his wife, it’ll be a tiny reunion. And my boys can be free to live their lives without the burden of an old woman like me.”

“Never a burden.”

“I’ve made up my mind.”

Tony gulped down more protests, forcing himself to nod. He’d give her this. Who knew how much longer she’d still be able to think for herself like this. “Don’t get hung up about that last visit. It wasn't your fault.”

Peggy nodded and rested her forehead against Tony’s, looking him straight in the eye. “Please don't keep such things from me again. I was so worried, and you aren't the only one with a weak heart. Since Daniel and Mary both… you boys are all I have. I love you.”

It hurt to bite back the truth. That of all the people in the world, right after JARVIS had confirmed it, Peggy _had_ been the first person he’d told about his poisoning. 

That he’d gone to her, terrified and shaking and lost. That the news had triggered an episode so bad she’d called him _Howard_. That she’d screamed and he’d cried. That he’d been forced to watch Michael rush in to hold Peggy down and give her a sedative - all because Tony had told her he was dying. And then she hadn't remembered when she’d woken up.It was then that Tony decided not to tell any of the others.

_What was he supposed to say to that?_

Instead, Tony stood and moved around her, grabbing the handles of her wheelchair and leaning down to press a kiss to her curls. 

“Love you too, Aunt Peg.”  

* * *

**_2016_ **

Tony cackled.

It sounded more like a gurgle, with the water bubbling up his throat, but he knew he was laughing. Skull seemed to know too. 

His cackles cut off abruptly when Skull grabbed him by the face, lifting him up to his feet with one hand. Tony’s knees cracked as they straightened after so long kneeling on the floor, and the lack of oxygen made his limbs all shake where he was precariously propped on his feet. He was barely standing, held up by the red hand gripping his face.

“I will take that as a no to my offer then,” Skull growled.

“That’s a definite nope.”

The sneer on his face dissolved away, but the ugly look in his eyes didn't fade. “I will get my answers out of you. Do you know why?”

Tony grunted, not enough air to reply.

“Because I don't only have you, I also have _her_. I have Sharon Carter,” he said. “One of SHIELD’s top agents, and a formidable ally.”

“She would _never-_ ”

“I know she wouldn’t. But it’s been done to her before - persuasion, manipulation, rebuilding. In other worlds, I've had her kill Captain Rogers. I’ve had her kill you. Truly a more effective Winter Soldier because, even now, no one expects that same power from a woman.”

A cold chill went down Tony’s spine as he imagined it. That dead look that had been in Barnes’ eyes after he’d been triggered in Berlin, only now superimposed over Sharon’s warm eyes. It’s a nightmare image. One that he knows won’t leave his head for a long time. _No_.

“Now, Mr Stark,” because Red Skull was still talking, because part of _his_ world hadn't just been threatened. “Perhaps you will reconsider my offer.”

It was tempting. 

 _Oh so_ tempting. Anything to keep Sharon safe. 

But this offer didn't promise that. It offered no guarantee that she’d be safe, that she’d be alive, that she’d be _free_. Tony wasn't stupid. It was dangling the carrot in front of him, a threat ready to happen from behind. Red Skull was reminding him that he could make Tony watch a loved one get tortured for information Tony held. 

He felt the buzzing in his jaw and reminded himself that someone was on the way. Tony only had to hold on a little longer - _how much longer? It’s been so long_ \- and someone would come for him, for them both. Someone that _would_ guarantee Sharon’s safety. 

Tony couldn't give in. And he knew Sharon wouldn't want him to, not at the price of the world, not even for her, not to _him_.

He stuck up his chin and looked down his nose at Red Skull. _Go ahead. Do your worst_.

Skull sneered. _I will_.

He turned to one of his men, “Bring me the shield.”

*

“Stark has the full code, he didn't split it up,” Natasha said. “What he gave me when I left was a key. He hasn't trusted himself fully since Ultron, and he definitely didn't trust himself with this too. Not to stay objective. Not with so many of his friends involved. He treated himself like a nuclear device with how dangerous the information is.”

_Boy, it must be hard to shake the whole double agent thing, huh?_

_(I need you to do it again.)_

Sam shook his head, he’d missed so much, _what did he really know about Tony Stark?_ “Keys.”

Natasha nodded. “Two, in fact. If Stark ever wanted the Sentinels program to restart, he would need to convince the two people who had the keys to allow it to pass.”

She’d known back on that day that something was wrong. Something big. Enough to scare Tony. He wouldn't have used such old insults to hurt her, not effectively, not when there were much more recent and painful wounds he could have brought up - the airport debacle, Wanda, _Bruce_. 

But Tony had gone for something older, scars that were closed, that bruised but didn't break now. Something specific to _their_ history.

Natasha’s actions at the airport had offered Tony a brief and important opportunity. He’d had to act fast.Nothing spoken explicitly, couldn’t, not with all those ears and eyes on them. But he’d trusted that Natasha would understand.

_Sticks in the DNA._

_(It can only be you.)_

She, who’d shared his love of old spy-flicks and trashing them, who'd spent hours lounging with Tony in pyjamas in the tower marathoning Bond and dissecting everything wrong, laughed over silly codewords and cryptic messages and ridiculous gadgets.

She, who knew the language of truth spoken in lies, love spoken with hate, loyalty played as betrayal, as much as Tony did. 

Natasha had taken her cues from him. Picked up the anger, picked on the old wounds as he had, ones that had faded between them the moment her pen touched the Accords.

_Are you incapable of letting go of your ego for one goddamn second?_

_(For you? Yes. Tell me.)_

Hours and miles later, when she’d opened her getaway kit, Natasha had found what he’d meant for her to take. Wondered what it had cost Tony to get it to her. She’d memorised her instructions and tossed the device away after as it self-destructed. Very old-school, very Mission Impossible, a last little joke from Tony. 

It had made her smile, briefly, before she’d returned to hacking the Raft schematics from Ross’ files.

“In the eyes of the world still, Captain America betrayed everyone for a terrorist,” Natasha said bluntly, ignoring Steve’s flinch and the automatic hand reaching out to Barnes’ shoulder in comfort. “Black Widow sided with him after signing the Accords. I stabbed Iron Man in the back. I would be one of the last people he’d ever trust-”

“In the eyes of the world,” T'Challa finished, eyes assessing her anew.

_T'Challa told Ross what you did, so they’re coming for you._

_(Wakanda. Stay low. Stay safe. Goodbye.)_

“Even if Stark breaks, if he gives up the codes, Skull won’t have his army of Sentinels, because the codes won’t work without my approval, and the approval of whoever else Tony gave a key to.”

“You don't know?” Scott asked, hands raised at the derisive look it earned him. “What? It’s just a question, and she seems to know everything else!”

“But that’s the whole point,” Barnes said. “Widow doesn't know who has the other key, and the same the other way. Means they can’t influence each other directly. Can’t say it’s a bad plan, that man really is paranoid.”

Natasha nodded in agreement, though privately she had a pretty good guess as to the other key holder. 

After all, the list of people Tony trusted and the list of people Tony trusted to be able to stand up to him was short. And really, there had been only one other person Tony had very clearlybroken ties with and distanced himself from recently, someone who valued the greater good as much as she and Tony did, who was prepared to carry out a difficult choice if it meant more lives saved, without waiting around naively for a miracle. Someone who had proven to Tony that they would act, not just react.

Natasha wondered if Pepper had the same suspicions about Natasha.

_I'm not the one who needs to watch their back._

_(You too.)_

Then she’d had to leave him behind, bleeding among sharks, almost alone. It had been harder to do than Natasha had expected, but Tony had a way of crawling into your heart in an endearingly possessive way - and a way of taking a bullet meant for you from a gun of his own making.

* * *

**_1996_ **

Peggy couldn't help the welling in her eyes. She wasn't often moved to tears, but she dared any mother to hold them back with their daughter in front of them in her wedding dress, _glowing_ with happiness. Mary was lighting the room with her smile. 

Sniffing delicately, Peggy fussed over the lace on the skirt again. It wouldn't be long until the ceremony began. Daniel would be back soon, once he found Peggy’s shawl. She _swore_ she’d left it in the car this time. 

“So,” Mary grinned, slipping on the pair of sapphire studs Evie had loaned her. “Do I pass muster?”

Peggy found herself speechless, simply reaching up to cup Mary’s face in her hands and stare at the joy in her eyes. Mary held her back, looping her arms around her waist in a hug. Mother and daughter shared a quiet intimate moment as a new chapter in Mary’s life was about to begin.

“Knock knock!” The door cracked open and Michael stuck his head through, a hand covering his eyes. “Is everyone decent in here? No naked sisters?”

Peggy rolled her eyes, but Mary probably wasn’t going to drop that smile all day, come what may. Michael was shoved into the room anyway, stumbling a little and laughing as Daniel prodded him with his crutch, Peggy’s shawl in his other hand. “I thought I said ‘behave’?”

“Didn’t tell me _how_ to behave though.”

Daniel huffed tiredly at their son, but Peggy watched his face go slack with awe as he caught sight of Mary, in full wedding ensemble. His chin might have wobbled a little as he limped over, reaching out to hold Peggy’s hand and staring Mary up and down, _his little girl_. 

Mary started blinking rapidly. “Don't you dare start crying. If _you_ start…”

Peggy looked at her little family and felt her heart warm. Daniel, older, hair grey, but just as handsome and loving. Mary, alight with her happiness, looking better than Peggy ever did in a wedding dress. And Mary’s brother, _her_ Michael, was here to see it, even if he was pretending to be only a ‘family friend’ to maintain Mary’s cover.

The door opened again, and Sharon skipped into the room in her blue flower-girl dress. Hal and Evie were playing as ‘work colleagues’, and Peggy knew they were outside now acting as ushers. Really, the only one who _wasn't_ here…

“What’s got you giggling like that?”

Peggy turned at Michael’s question, looking at the particularly cheeky look on Sharon’s face. She was muffling giggles into her hands. “Sharon?”

“Bad news!” Hal cried, suddenly bursting into the room. He didn't look at all like he had bad news though. “The camera crew cancelled.”

Mary’s smile drooped for the first time. “ _What?_ But I _need_ them! No, oh god-”

“ _Good news_ ,” Hal continued. “I found a replacement. I think you’ll like them.”

Sharon leaned into Peggy’s side as she snickered harder, and Peggy narrowed her eyes at the sparkle in her nephew’s eyes. “What did you do?”

Hal cleared his throat and reached for the door handle behind him. “They’re very technologically competent - highly recommended! I know they’ll do a good job…”

In a loudly patterned suit, clean-shaven for the first time in years, and _bleached_ _blond_ ,Tony stepped through the door.

Peggy’s jaw dropped. “Ton-”

“ _Edoardo_ ,” Hal said with extra emphasis in his eyebrows. “Doesn’t speak much English. Quite unfortunate.”

“But that hardly matters from behind a camera, I suppose,” Daniel drawled. Peggy could see the corners of his eyes curling with amusement. Tony looked _ridiculous_. Michael was making noises like a kettle trying to keep his laughter inside, but Mary… Mary was beaming again, gazing at Tony with shining eyes.

He noticed, of course, stepping up to the bride and taking her hand with a flourish. “ _Buongiorno!_ ” Tony said, voice deeper than usual, dropping a kiss to her knuckles. “ _Sei la sposa più bella che abbia mai vista_.”

Sharon lost any attempt at composure, cackling and falling in a puff of blue tulle on the floor. Michael quickly joined her, Daniel and Hal watching them with grins on their faces. Peggy though, Peggy couldn't tear her eyes away from Tony and Mary. 

Despite the hilarity of the situation, and how odd it was seeing his blond hair and theatrical Italian persona, the expression on Tony’s face was utterly serious and soft and awed. As all of them had been when they first saw Mary dressed up completely. And Mary was gripping his hand tightly in hers. 

Peggy should have known.

There was no way Tony was going to miss this. 

There was no way anything would keep them from each other when it mattered. 

Her little family.

* * *

**_2016_ **

“There are worlds where you and Captain America are together.”

Tony’s breath caught in his chest at the words, cold sweat dotting his back as he lay on the floor. Skull had dropped him, waiting for the shield to arrive, and Tony hadn't the energy to sit up or anything. 

He didn't know how long it had been since he’d been brought to this room. There was more than one instance when Tony had passed out, or been sure that _this will be the last time I close my eyes_ as his face had hit the water, or a fist had cracked his ribs, or a hand had gripped his throat, or, or, or. Time had stopped, lost meaning.

And then Red Skull said _that_.

“You’re quite the, how do they put it, quite the ‘power couple’ in those worlds,” Skull continued like he hadn't just sent Tony’s head spinning at the implications. “Very difficult to deal with, a big problem. I'm glad it’s not the case here. You’ve made things much easier. Although…”

Tony sucked in a harsh breath as Skull prodded his side with a boot, Tony’s ribs creaking and painful.

“Perhaps I'm overlooking your devotion to the Captain,” Skull mused. “Perhaps it’s only that in this world, he does not love you _back_.”

Tony didn't react, held himself still as Skull kept kicking the giant bruise down his side. Skull still seemed to find it funny, giving a low chuckle. 

“It doesn't matter anyway. You're going to die here one way or the other, Mr Stark. Whether you give me the codes or not, it doesn't matter. After I deliver your dead body to the world, I might not even need Sentinels to hunt down the superhumans,” Skull grinned to himself. "The world will cleanse itself long before my Master arrives."

The door swung open, and from the corner of his eye, Tony spotted that signature red-white-and-blue shield. He forced himself not to flinch as it caught the light.

Red Skull strode to the man, taking the shield from him. “How is it to be then, Mr Stark? A shield through the heart seems unoriginal, I'd hate to copy Captain America,” Tony flinched then at the reminder, the shield reflecting the light as Skull turned it in his hands. “Perhaps a clean decapitation? I think this thing is strong and sharp enough. Or perhaps just old-fashioned brute-”

“Sir!” a guard burst into the room. His face was hidden in his helmet, but he sounded alarmed.

Skull growled, annoyed at the interruption. “What is it?”

“There’s some sort of interference on the sonar,” he explained quickly. “We don't know what it is, but it’s getting stronger.”

Red Skull angrily hurled the shield at a corner of the room, the metallic clang making Tony jump. He plucked his coat up again from over the camera, turning to the remaining guards in the room. “Take him back to the cells - a separate cell - and put the shield back. I’ll deal with him again after I deal with _this_.”

Between the Red Skull leaving the room and the guards gruffly lifting Tony by the arms, two things happened.

 _One_ , the buzzing in his tooth stopped. 

 _Two_ , Tony’s good hand slipped momentarily into his pocket, hiding something in a fist as he was half-carried out of the room, shivering from the combination of dampness and the cold recycled air.

With his head ducked down, Tony wasn't fighting to stay on his feet.

He was fighting to hold back a smile.

 _They’re here_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italian translation (please correct me if I'm wrong)
> 
>  _Buongiorno!_ ~ Good morning!  
>  _Sei la sposa più bella che abbia mai vista_ ~ You are the most beautiful bride that I have ever seen.  
>  Edit: Thanks [VeraNera](http://archiveofourown.org/users/VeraNera/pseuds/VeraNera) for the help with the Italian


	8. Sharon

**_2016_ **

_“Sousa, status?”_

Natasha crossed her arms, hands in tight fists as she sat at the table listening to the staticky exchange. Seven screens were cleared, ready and waiting for their users to connect. Rhodes hadn’t wanted to allow those in Wakanda present while Natasha helped him direct the rescue, but Vision had persuaded him to let them monitor if they remained quiet. Which they had promised to do.

Natasha wondered if Rhodes would've allowed such a concession if she and T'Challa hadn't been here asking too.

_“In position.”_

*

Fear rippled in the control room as Red Skull stormed inside, marching straight to one side where the sonar monitors were.

“What’s this about interference?”

The operator stood up, indicating a monitor on the top left. “There’s an unexplained void in the readings off the starboard bow, Sir. We thought it was faulty hardware so we recalibrated, but all systems came back fully operational. We don't know what’s causing the problem, we haven't seen anything like it.”

“It isn't a shoal of fish?” Skull sneered, tapping at the keyboard himself.

“No, Sir,” the man said. “We would've picked up approaching marine life. The interference is too consistent to be a body of fish. Besides…”

Skull’s eyes narrowed as he zoomed in on the problem on screen. It was definitely getting larger... or closer. “Yes?”

“It’s not acting like any other interference,” the man continued. “It didn't register earlier because it isn't actually a pingback, it's the opposite, it's a lack of pingback where we expected one. Like there's a black hole in the sonar. It could be some debris-”

Skull’s hands clenched on the desk with a growl, “It’s not debris you _idiots_! It’s a shielded vessel!” He angrily knocked the man to the floor. “Everyone to stations! Prepare for-”

* * *

**_2002_ **

“Surprise!”

Tony laughed loudly at Sharon’s dumbstruck stare. “What?”

“Happy Birthday!” 

“That’s a car.”

“That’s right, buttercup.”

“Tony, I'm only fourteen.”

“Oh you’re not driving that,” Tony said, dropping an arm around her shoulders and tugging her towards the vehicle. It was beautiful, the soft-top folded back to reveal matte red leather, a black body with red and yellow flames painted along the sides, shined to a reflective polish. Sharon was still utterly confused. “And I'm not giving it to you either. I'm not that crazy.”

“Then, what?”

An absolutely mischievous look crossed Tony’s face, and Sharon immediately grew a grin to match. “We don't have long before your parents get back. Hop in.”

Tony vaulted into the driver’s side, and Sharon ran around to copy him, managing with a little less grace. “What are we doing? Are we going somewhere?”

“No,” Tony said, but he slotted the key into the ignition anyway. “This is… this is my Dad’s car.”

Sharon’s grin faltered, and she reached out to clutch Tony’s hand.

“I used to help him work on it sometimes,” he continued. “It’s mine now, and I’ve made a few upgrades since.”

“Like always,” Sharon said. “Making things better.”

“I try,” Tony said with a shrug that Sharon thought was ridiculous. She’d seen the stuff he’d invented, she hadn't needed her Dad and the whole world to tell her Tony was a genius. She’d figured that out easily herself. “Anyway, I managed to add a new upgrade to this car that I thought was really really cool, but your parents might not if they saw us try it out.”

Sharon’s eyes darted around the dashboard and the seats excitedly, “What is it?”

“I haven’t shown anyone else yet.”

“No one?” Sharon gaped.

“Well, except for JARVIS and the bots, but they helped make it so it doesn't count. But first!” Tony reached behind him and pulled out a motorcycle helmet, painted blue with white wings at the sides. He slipped it over Sharon’s head. “Gotta keep you safe. Seatbelt too.”

“What about you?”

Tony grinned, “I’ll be fine. You ready?”

“I don't know.”

“Perfect.”

Sharon gripped the leather seat tightly, as Tony turned the key and the engine purred into life.

“Now, this might not last long,” he said, pressing a few buttons on the dashboard. “But I think we can take a spin around the garage.”

“Wha—?”

Sharon gasped as the car began to rise. Tony’s grin nearly split his face as he watched the awe on her face. “It’s not at all commercially viable, and it took _forever_ to work ‘cos I couldn't find Dad’s old notes, I’ll have to figure out a better power source if I want sustained travel-”

“We’re _flying!_ ” Sharon screeched, arms raised as she cackled, leaning over the side to look at the ground below them. They were only a few feet off the ground yet.

“Like I said, I think we can manage a spin ‘round the garage. You want?”

“Hell yeah!”

Tony took them in a careful circle around the room, Sharon staring in delight at the gap growing below the car. _Flying_ , Tony had made a car that _flew_. It seemed impossible but Tony had done it, and he chose to share it with _her_. She turned and smacked a kiss to his cheek, knocking his head with the Captain America helmet he’d put her in. 

“This is amazing!”

Tony and Sharon howled with laughter as they went around the room again.

At least, until Hal came down, curious at the noise, and about had a panic attack seeing them so high up.

* * *

**_2016_ **

A deafening klaxon sounded again as the antechamber doors opened, the three guards in the room standing to attention, and Sharon shot to her feet, eyeing the approaching figures. The shine of Steve’s shield barely caught her attention when her eyes honed in on the slumped figure dangling between two guards. It was like the worst déjà vu.

She bit back a growl at the sorry state of Tony.

He was pale. Paler than before, and shivering, she could see that even from this distance. He was also soaking wet, hair plastered to his face, his pants stained with big dark splashes. And he was bleeding, _again_ , whatever they’d put him through - and Sharon had a very good idea of what that was - had torn open his cuts and made new ones. The bruise on his chest was now creeping out of the edges of his soggy bandages, and the bandage on his left forearm was bright red with blood.

Sharon squared herself off with the guards outside, but shuffled to the back of the cell, hands raised, ready for the doors to open and Tony to be dropped on the cot again.

But they _didn’t_.

They carried Tony to the guard at the central podium in the antechamber, sharing quiet words with him for a moment. Sharon couldn't hear what they said, but the guard swiped a hand across the monitor, and the bars of _another_ cell started to rise.

Sharon felt her heart drop. _No_. If they were going to be in cells, let them be in the same cell. So she could take care of Tony, and Tony could take care of-

“Hey! What are you doing?” Sharon yelled.

Guns were pointed at her, but her hands were still raised and the glass was still between them.

“That’s the wrong cell you dumbass!”

The guard at the podium snorted, swiping his hand across the monitor again. The bars were fully raised, and now the glass started to lift. The men holding Tony started moving to the other cell.

“ _Hey!_ -”

There was a scrambled burst on the guards’ radios, and Sharon’s heart skipped a beat as the whole place suddenly shook, throwing her off her feet while the guards outside started yelling in panic. 

She landed hard on her backside, her shoulder knocking painfully against the edge of the cot. That was going to bruise. Sharon scrambled up onto her knees, gripping the edge of the cot in case the place shook again. _What was that?_

Then the lights went out.

And someone on the other side of the glass screamed.

* * *

**_1992_ **

“Are we nearly there?”

Sharon watched her parents share a _look_ in the front seat. 

They’d been in London for Christmas and New Year’s with Mommy’s family, and Sharon couldn't _wait_ to tell Tony all about it. Mostly she wanted to tell Tony she missed him, because she had, and saying that always made Tony smile and kiss her.

But Mommy and Daddy sharing a _look_ like that about Tony wasn't good. 

“Remember what we told you, baby?” Mommy said, turning in her seat to look at Sharon in the back of the car. They were driving straight to Tony from the airport, not even stopping at home. Sharon hadn't even had to ask this time to go to see Tony, Daddy had already decided. “What we told you about Tony’s parents?”

Oh.

Sharon remembered. “Yes, Mommy.”

“So Tony’s going be sad,” Mommy said, looking sad too. “He might not want to talk much. You might have to save all your stories for another time.”

“But they might cheer him up!”

“Maybe.”

The way Mommy said that didn't sound like she meant it.

Sharon was nervous when the car finally stopped, and Mommy helped her out of the car. She held her hand tight as they walked into the building. It wasn't Tony’s house. This was where Michael lived. Sharon was confused when she saw Mary sitting in the lounge waiting for them, her leg still in a cast. Daddy went to her straight away though, talking quietly while Mommy helped Sharon unwrap her scarf and sit on the other end of the sofa. She clicked the TV on, turning the volume down low, and went to talk with Mary and Daddy.

Sharon spotted Santa on the screen, even though Christmas was over, but she tried to hear what her parents were saying over the music.

_“…had to help him shower - was horrifying for everyone…”_

_“-Peggy been?”_

_“Everyone’s been, he won’t leave the bedroom.”_

_“Even when Michael calls?”_

_“Even then. Stane’s been calling a lot too.”_

_“Screw him. Has Tony eaten?”_

_“Barely. Ana brought some stuff over, but he won’t stop asking for another drink.”_

_“You didn’t-”_

_“Of course I didn't let him.”_

Sharon frowned. If Tony was thirsty, why wasn't anyone getting him a drink? If he was already feeling sad about his parents - and that made tears pop in Sharon’s eyes, imagining not ever seeing _her_ parents again - then he should be allowed to drink _something_!

Sharon liked cocoa when she was sad, but she wasn't allowed to make it yet, and Daddy was too busy to make it right now. There had to be _something_ Sharon could do.

While the adults kept talking quietly, Sharon slipped out to the bathroom. Michael had a step-stool just for Sharon, and she shuffled it over to the sink. Climbing up, she reached for an empty cup and filled it with water, before carefully lifting the cup and slowly climbing down the steps.

She spilt a few drops, but there was still a lot in the cup.

Moving back to the hall, Sharon didn't dare let her eyes stray from the cup in her hands, taking tiny steps and letting her memory guide her to the bedroom she usually stayed in, but it was empty. “Tony?”

There was a rumbling groan from behind that scared her, and Sharon spun to face the other bedroom. But that was _Michael’s_ bedroom. There was another groan, but Sharon thought it sounded more like crying now. _Tony._ She glared at the cup, she’d spilt half of it in her fright, but Tony was _right there_ and she missed him and there was still some water in it…

Sharon pushed open the other door. It smelled funny in here and was really dark, it almost made Sharon run back out. She didn't like the dark. But then that was definitely crying, _and if it was Tony_ … She stepped inside. “Tony?”

The crying stopped with a loud sniff, and a dark shape moved on the bed. “Sharon?”

Suddenly, all her nerves and her confusion and how much she’d missed him bubbled up in a sob of her own, and Sharon ran to the bed. Strong hands carefully lifted her onto the bed. In the faint light from the hallway, she could see the shine on Tony’s cheeks, and big watery eyes.

“What- what are you doing here?”

“We came back,” Sharon whispered, shuffling closer even though Tony smelled bad. She didn't like the dark, but Tony would keep her safe. “I missed you. I'm sorry you're sad. Mary said you were thirsty, so I got you-”

There were only a few sips of water left now from all the spills, but she held the cup out to Tony anyway.

“I got you some water.”

Tony stared at her, taking the cup from her but didn't talk, which was strange. But Sharon remembered that he was sad. She’d never seen him really sad before, but when _she_ was sad Tony could take care of her, so she could do it back. 

She reached out to grab his damp cheeks, pulling forward to kiss his nose like he did to her. It was too dark to see, but Sharon felt Tony’s face shift and felt the huff of his breath as he then pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. Sharon cuddled closer, wrapping her arms around to hug him, patting his head like Daddy did when she was upset. 

Tony suddenly gripped her tighter in his arms, the scratch of his stubble tickling her ear. “I missed you too,” he said, voice croaky, probably because he was thirsty. “Thank you for the drink.”

Even though it was still dark and it was scaring her, Sharon didn't move. Because Tony was sad. She held him tight instead to stop her hands shaking. But Tony knew, of course, he'd known Sharon forever she couldn't hide anything from him, and with a click, the lamp on the nightstand lit the room.

“Better?”

Which was silly, because Sharon was here to make _Tony_ better.

Still, Sharon nodded, face tucked into his neck. 

“You?”

“Better with you.”

* * *

**_2016_ **

“Dugan!” Jim growled into the comm, rubbing tiredly at his head. “You knocked out the power to the whole goddamn Raft!” 

The screens were all dark on the Raft, only the cameras from the rescue team were still up, and Jim spotted the sheepish look on the younger man’s face through Michael’s cam. 

“It’s totally fine! Emergency power should be up in a sec.”

Jim watched Hal smack the back of the man’s head, and imagined it was his own hand. 

Kenta ‘Ken’ Dugan, grandson of two Howling Commandos, and just as much trouble as them both combined, Jim had to remember that. Though he’d never met James Morita through anything but stories, Tony had introduced him to his Uncle Dum Dum, and _that_ had been an experience he’d never forget.

A chuckle drifted through the comm, “Calm down, the kid said power’ll be up again.”

“Hey, I'm not a kid. Not my fault Tony didn't exactly leave instructions on how to use the-”

“Thanks again for filling in for me, Carol,” Jim said softly, ignoring Ken’s soft whining. 

“Of course, James.”

“Oooh, _James,_ ” and Jim rolled his eyes and wondered _why_ he thought this lot was equipped to rescue Sharon and Tony when most of them still acted like _children_. “Hear that, Trip? _James._ ”

Jim heard Trip sigh into his comm, “I hear you gearing up to get smacked again. Thank god I'm with Hal.”

“Missing out on all the fun is what you're gonna be.”

“Keep an eye on him, would you Carol?” Jim groaned, rubbing at the growing headache pounding at his temples. She only laughed again in reply.

“Colonel,” FRIDAY’s voice came clear over the gentle bickering. Jim looked up at Michael's feed, and the Iron Man suit that was staring back, empty except for the AI, familiar but strange in this black and gold iteration. “Breach is secure. We are clear for entry. I detect ten armed hostiles en route to engage.”

Jim sat up straighter in his bed, sharing a serious look with Vision at his side. “You still getting this, Romanov?”

_“Loud and clear.”_

Michael and Hal looked seriously out from the screens at Jim, at each other, and both gave sharp nods. “We’re ready when you are, Rhodes.”

“Sousa, I'm gonna guide you through the place,” Jim said, pulling the relevant schematics closer to him. “Carter, you listen to Romanov, she’ll lead you to Sharon and Tony. FRIDAY, clear the entry, and then you know what to do.”

The Iron Man suit nodded, and Dugan whooped.

“Let’s go make some noise!”

*

“Tony!” Sharon screamed, stumbling towards the glass. It was too dark to see anything, but she could hear a fierce scuffle on the other side, and the scream from before had ended in a terribly abrupt way, though she hadn't heard a gunshot. _Dark - where are the lights?_

A deep hum sounded, and Sharon saw the lights start to flicker on again in bursts.

She gaped at the middle of the room.

A guard lay still in a puddle of blood on the floor, hands limp at his neck, and Tony was straddling the other subduing him, right forearm looking like it had been dipped in blood. He managed to land a solid punch to the man’s throat, and took the chance while he was dazed to scramble for the podium.

Sharon’s heart nearly stopped, because Tony was _so close_ to getting her out of the cell, but behind him the other three guards were getting to their feet too, spotting Tony heading for the podium, Tony’s unprotected back.

The shield was right there though, beside the dark puddle of blood.

“Behind you!” Sharon yelled at him. “The shield! Tony, the shield!”

But he ignored her or hadn't heard her, and he ignored the danger at his back as his hands swiped quickly across the monitor. 

Tony barely managed to turn as the nearest guard launched themselves across the room, slipping in the blood and knocking Tony over with a pained shout. 

He blinked at the black spots that had almost overtaken his vision as his arm got knocked about, and the man was heavy on top of him. Tony couldn't breathe enough to panic though. His good hand, coated in another man’s blood, slipping on the tac gear trying to push the man off of him. 

The moment the lights had cut out, Tony hadn't wasted a moment to second guess himself, had just jumped and taken the chance. The wire in his hand was small but sharp - one quick stab at the vulnerable opening between helmet and vest had been all it took. Tony pulled the wire free, felt the warm spray on his arm as the man had gone down screaming and gurgling, shield falling at their feet with a metal clang. Without the support on one side, the other man had stumbled with Tony’s full weight, and Tony had used it to twist and land on top of him, fighting the man in the dark. 

As the lights had returned, Tony aimed for the throat again, his fist iron strong with the scars and callouses from years of work. Tony hadn't glanced at the shield - _couldn’t_ \- even though logically he knew it would make a good weapon - _too well, he knew it all too well_ \- Tony had left it, leapt for the podium instead, typing in the passcode he’d watched only seconds before and opening Sharon’s cell. 

 _She’s free_ , Tony thought, even as he was thrown across the room, a fist snapping his head back against the floor. He saw the glint of a gun in the flickering lights, heard the click of the safety go, and had long enough to wonder if this was to be his end, before something round and metallic knocked the guard off of Tony, and _Tony could breathe_.

He lifted his head and took a moment to truly appreciate the beauty of Sharon easily fighting two men more than twice her size.

And then Tony spotted the shield next to him again and found he couldn't breathe.

Things went fuzzy for a while.

* * *

**_2013_ **

“So how’s the chest?”

Tony looked up from the tablet in his lap, lighting up at the woman standing in the doorway, a greasy paper bag in one hand. “Those better be burgers.”

“They are,” she replied, moving around various monitor wired to him to sit by the bed. “But none for you. Doctor’s orders.”

“You know, _I'm_ a doctor-”

“Not for this,” Sharon said, rapping a knuckle to the heart monitor. 

Tony slumped back against his pillows with a pout. “Cruel, Carter. Very cruel.”

Sharon just grinned, but her eyes were serious as she looked him over. “You ok?”

Tony shrugged gingerly, tapping lightly at the thick bandage across his chest, “It’s gone now.”

“Isn’t that good?”

“Yeah,” Tony sighed. “But is it weird that I kinda miss it?”

“It changed your life,” Sharon said simply. “In horrible and amazing ways. It helped you save the world, help _keep_ saving the world, change it too. I think it would be weird not to miss it.”

She held out a hand, and Tony reached to hold it, quirking a smile at her. “It _is_ easier to breathe without a hunk of metal in my chestthough.”

Sharon laughed, setting aside the paper bag to hold his hand with both of hers. “Are you gonna be stuck in a bed for long then?”

“Nah, not too long. Whipped something up to help speed the recovery - totally safe, I promise, don't give me your Dad’s look sugar muffin, I thought you were cool.”

She huffed at him but didn't push. 

Tony squeezed her hand, “I need you to do something for me.”

That got one suspicious eyebrow raise, but Sharon nodded. He handed the table over to her, watching her quickly scan the page. “I see you've hacked into the SHIELD database again.”

“Ugh! No one says ‘hack’ anymore,” Tony sniffed.

“What’s this about?”

“Fury’s dumped Rogers alone in DC since he joined the Strike team, and JARVIS says all he ever does is go to his missions, go home, and go see Aunt Peg. That’s not healthy. He doesn’t even buy groceries!”

“ _You_ don't even buy groceries.”

“I have people for that,” Tony said with a huff. “Beside the point.”

“The point being…” Sharon’s eyes narrowed on his face, and Tony felt strangely vulnerable, but he allowed it because it was her. “You’re worried about Captain America. And stalking him.”

“What? No.” Tony tried a nonchalant shrug. “It’s not stalking, it’s just checking up on a fellow teammate in his time of- of- fine! Yes, I was bored and just- Jarvis said he’s showing signs of depression. Cap can’t be _depressed_. That's a goddamn tragedy!”

“You want me to go keep an eye on him?” Sharon asked, reading through the tablet more thoroughly. “It says Agent Romanov’s doing that already.”

“Romanov schmomanov,” Tony waved a hand over the tablet. “No, I want you to, you know…”

Sharon shot him a beady look. “Are you trying to hook me up with-”

“No! _God no._ ”

“Careful, Tony, your crush is showing,” Sharon giggled.

Tony growled, batting at her hair, “Shut up! _A friend!_ I thought he could use a friend.”

Sharon reined in her laughter, “Wow, it’s like watching the Grinch when his heart grew three sizes.”

“Will you do it or not?”

“Doesn’t he have friends? And aren’t you two-”

“Eh, not- not really?” Tony sighed. “We had a rough start, and sure, there was a nice bonding meal after the whole ‘alien invasion’ thing, but then the team scattered and I know Romanov’s there but I don't know. Plus, I think maybe there’s too much history with me being a Stark, but you…”

“Yeah, sending a _Carter_ will be much less baggage,” Sharon drawled.

“C’mon, Shar,” Tony grumped. 

Sharon was surprised at his insistence. He really _was_ worried about Captain America. Tony really wanted him to have a friend, and didn't think he counted. She looked back at the tablet on her lap and thought that was a pity, Tony was an amazing friend to have. Still. _Captain America’s friend_ , Sharon could do that.

“Okay,” she said, and Tony’s head shot up. Like he didn't know she wouldn't do almost anything for him. “I’ve gotta finish an assignment in the Hamptons, but I’ll talk to Fury about assigning me to DC next.”

Tony beamed at her, beckoning her over to kiss her cheek. “Let me know if Fury’s being stubborn. I can handle him.”

“When isn't he? And no, Tony, you’ll blow my entire cover if you come storming in like it’s the principal’s office.”

“Oh, right,” Tony said, still grinning. “The mysterious Agent 13 _no-last-name_.”

“The _infamous_ Agent 13.”

“The _best_ Agent 13.”

“Shut up, Tony.”

* * *

**_2016_ **

Sharon’s chest heaved as she glared down at the two men at her feet, crumpled and knocked out and definitely worse for wear from facing her temper. But they were dealt with now, and there was the sound of someone panicking behind her. Quickly collecting a gun off one of the men, Sharon spun around to find Tony folded in on himself by the podium, the whites of his eyes shining as he breathed much too fast.

“Tony,” Sharon called to him, tucking the gun in her waistband so her hands were free. She stepped slowly towards him, around the blood, the underwire Tony’d used glinting in the red puddle, to crouch in front of the genius. “Hey, Tony, look at me. Look at me.”

His breaths were still too fast, didn't seem to be listening to her, eyes fixed to one side. She followed his eye line and spotted the shield, dropped from where it had hit the man who’d attacked Tony. From when Sharon had thrown the shield once she’d hurtled out of her cell, her teeth bared and vision red.

Sharon shuffled over to block the shield from him, consciously slowing and exaggerating her own breathing. “I've got you. You’re safe, Tony. I’ve got you.”

She kept repeating the words quietly to him as she lifted Tony’s good hand and held it to her chest, ignoring the blood all over them both now and letting him feel and copy her breathing.

“Tony, come back to me. I need you. Tony?”

His breathing was still jerky, and Tony looked sort of dazed when he finally locked eyes with Sharon. But it was still something.

“That’s it,” Sharon crooned. “Breathe with me.”

Tony sucked in a deep breath, and as he let it out, his eyes began to clear a little, and he looked at her with more focus. His hand was still trembling in hers. 

“You with me?”

Tony nodded shakily, “M’with you, cupcake.”

“We have to move,” Sharon told him plainly, her back tingling as she kept an ear out for any more of Skull’s men. “Can you get up?”

With a little help, Tony rose to his feet, wincing but not saying a word in complaint.

Sharon’s eyes darted back to the shield again. It would be best if Tony had it, he was in no state to fight, the shield would offer him more protection while they moved. But Sharon didn't think he’d be able to touch the thing, so she reached back and pulled out the gun from her waistband.

She pressed it into Tony’s palm. 

“You got my back, Stark?”

He nodded, a shadow of his usual grin pulling at his lips as he gripped the gun tight. 

“Always, Carter.”

Sharon nodded, turning to lift another gun from one of the fallen bodies, along with the shield. With the shield raised in front of her, and Tony at her back, Sharon led the way out of the antechamber.

*

“You sure they're okay?”

 _“Tony’s shaky, but he’s on his feet,”_ Romanov calmly answered Hal in the comm in his ear. _“They’re on the move. Looks like they're heading up. Take the next left.”_

“Copy,” he grunted, signalling for the two behind him to follow.  

_“Three more ahead of you. Prepare to engage again.”_

“I am so ready to engage,” Trip hissed. “Assholes.”

“How’s Michael doing?” Hal asked into the comm, just as he spotted the approaching men rounding the corner. “We seem to be meeting a lot of resistance.”

 _“You've got a lot of ground to make up for the hold-ups, but I think Sousa's still got Skull’s attention. He seems to be headed his way.”_ Hal pushed down the worry at that, he knew Michael could handle himself. Even against Red Skull. And he wasn't alone. _“Dugan’s making enough noise to keep them drawn in anyway.”_

Hal sighed, “That’s Ken.”

* * *

**_1999_ **

Tony quickly stubbed out the cigarette butt on the windowsill as the sound of feet pounding down the corridor grew louder. He waved the smoke out of the window and sprayed some floral air freshener to cover the smell. Tony turned on his heel just as the door to the office slammed open with a yell. 

He quickly snatched the blur that tried to dart behind him, lifting them off their feet with a grunt. 

“Tony put me down!” Ken yelled, wriggling in his arms. 

“You’re gonna knock into something running like that, and you know Peggy doesn't like it when there’s a mess at reunions,” Tony said, ignoring the squirming and holding Ken tighter. He’d just had another growth spurt, annoyingly getting closer to Tony’s height. But not quite yet. For now, Tony was still stronger. “What’re you running from, buddy?”

Ken squirmed more in his grip, not answering. A smile grew on Tony’s face.

“You’re running from Sharon, aren't you?”

“Shut up!”

Tony roared with laughter, “Oh, you're dead! That girl is vicious. You're so dead.”

“Help me hide,” Ken tried now, almond-shaped eyes opened as wide as he could go, bottom lip even stuck out. 

“No way, kiddo. I don't have a death wish.”

“I'm not a kid!” Ken insisted, as Tony finally let him go. “And I know you're gonna help me.”

“Do you?”

Ken nodded, a sly grin on his face. “Or I’ll tell Peggy you were smoking again. I can smell it on you.”

"You little!" Tony scowled, rolling his eyes at the smug look on the thirteen-year-old’s face. “ _Fine_ , what-”

“DUGAN!”

Both of them turned to the doorway, where Sharon stood squared in the doorway. She was neatly dressed in a red party frock except for the tangled pile of blonde curls on her head - and Tony now had an idea of what Ken must’ve done to earn her ire - and in her hands was a fully loaded water gun. _Where did she even-_

Ken dove behind Tony, and _he_ wound up with a blast of shockingly cold water soaking his suit. _Well, at least that dealt with the smell of smoke_. Tony stared down at his ruined clothes while Sharon gaped in shock at her accidental victim. 

The silence was broken when Ken made a break for the door, “It was a freaking _joke_ , Shar!”

The little girl spun with a growl, already pumping the gun with her next load of water, ready to chase after Ken when Tony cleared his throat. He tugged pointedly at his soggy shirt, and a sheepish expression crossed her face again.

It fled quickly back to a battle-ready look at the distant sound of Ken cackling further in the house. Sharon pointed at Tony and yelled, “Collateral damage!” before scampering after Ken with a fierce howl.

Tony could only stare after her for a full minute, stunned, a puddle forming at his feet.

When it was clear she wasn't going to come back, he made his way to the bathroom to at least dry off, only to find Antoine already stepping out, dabbing at his face with a towel. They shared a commiserating look, because they knew that even if Ken had started it, they were all going to be in trouble when Peggy found out. And she always seemed to find out.

There was the faint sound of something crashing, and a thud and a high-pitched scream.

 _Definitely_  going to find out.

* * *

**_2016_ **

“We have to head up,” Tony had whispered. “Control room is by the hangar bay.”

Rescue had to be here. 

Sharon knew Tony wouldn't have risked attacking the guards and freeing Sharon if there wasn't a way out. So they just had to find either the rescue party or a secure place to hole up until the rescuers found them. And the best place for that would be the control centre, in Sharon’s mind, because that’s where she’d go if she was rescuing them. 

They’d want to establish control of the facility, and they’d probably have surveillance up there too, so Sharon could locate and contact the rescue party if she beat them there. 

She didn't think she’d beat them there though. Not without leaving Tony, and she wasn't going to do that. He was walking, but every step was with a wince, and he had to be extra careful with his left arm since the impromptu bra-sling was now missing. 

But the hand holding the gun was steady, and Tony shadowed her stepsperfectly.

Checking around the corner, Sharon fixed in her mind the positions of the men down the corridor, and raised the shield. They both pretended not to notice Tony flinching at the motion, there wasn't time to at that moment, as Sharon readied herself to throw it again. 

It was light for its size, vibranium was like that, but she knew she didn't have the experience or the raw power to knock them all out like Steve could. But she’d manage to get at least one, possibly two, and they had the element of surprise.

Silently, Sharon stepped out into the corridor and hurled the shield, Tony half a step behind, gun already raised and bullets flying. 

*

Michael tossed a man clear over his shoulder with a grunt, scowling at the scattered bodies knocked out in front of him. Carol had been efficient. Ken had been… less so, but still effective, he gave him that. He didn't have the same experience as Carol and he did in combat. 

He tapped his comm, “Is he still headed this way?” 

 _“Yeah, Skull’s still on your trail,”_ Rhodes answered. _“All clear for Carter’s team.”_

Michael nodded, charging up his knuckle-dusters again, a faint whine similar to the Iron Man repulsors sounding as he stretched his fingers. “Alright, how close are we to command?”

_“Turn right and down two floors.”_

“You got that, Danvers?” Michael checked over his shoulder. Carol nodded, grabbing Ken by the back of his shirt and shoving him in the correct direction. They’d found mainly aiming and releasing his brand of destruction the most effective way of handling Ken. “FRIDAY done yet?”

_“Getting tired, Sousa?”_

Michael huffed, a small smile on his face as he followed Carol after the next batch of thugs she was sniffing out. “You wish—”

_“Shit! Where- Vis, do you see him?”_

Michael froze, tapping his comm, “Say again, Rhodes. What was that?”

 _“We lost visual on Skull,_ ” Rhodes hissed. _“Where did that slippery sonovabitch go? Does anyone have him? Natasha?”_

“What?”

Carol had stopped ahead, crouched and still holding onto Ken, looking to Michael for instruction. He could only shrug and wait, tense, listening to Rhodes curse over the comm as he hunted through all the feeds for a glimpse of that red-faced bastard.

_“Colonel - there. Sergeant Barnes spotted him-”_

_“Oh shit, Michael go! Straight ahead,”_ Rhodes snapped out, and Michael was already running, Carol sprinting on with Ken, mowing down anyone who got in their way. _“They’re heading right for-”_

* * *

**_1988_ **

Tony skulked down the hallways, keeping his hood up and head ducked as he passed any staff, checking with the scribbles on his hand again that he was heading for the right room. The place was a labyrinth, just one more reason to hate hospitals. 

Except for today.

He finally came across the room, reaching out, fingers drumming nervously on the door for a moment before pushing it open. There was a hushed atmosphere inside, but not heavy. The opposite, in fact. 

“Tony,” Daniel whispered, waving him in. Everyone else was crowded around one corner of the room. Except for Evie laid out on the hospital bed, conked out and snoring softly. “Come in, come in, were you alright getting here?”

“Yeah, no problem, don't worry about it,” Tony said, tip-toeing to join everyone in the corner. “Is Evie—?”

“She’s fine,” Daniel assured him. “Tired, but fine.”

Daniel made space for Tony, nudging his children out of the way. Tony laid eyes on Hal and swore he was almost glowing, radiating, with his smile. He clapped a hand on Hal’s shoulder, grinning himself, letting Hal drag him tight against his side. “Did you finally pick a name?”

Hal sniffled, nodding, eyes not having moved from the cot in front of him. One finger was gently brushing the downy tufts on the baby’s head.

“Yeah.”

“Well?” Tony leaned closer to the cot, studying the baby as it shifted, leaning into Hal’s touch. “Tell me what the munchkin’s called.”

"Sharon," Hal sighed sappily, almost breathing with all the newfound love brimming in him as he stared at the baby, his daughter, hating to blink in case he missed even a single moment with her. “Her name’s Sharon.”

“Hi Sharon,” Tony murmured to the baby with a smile. “I’m Tony. I'm your- I’m-”

Tony stopped and shared a look with Daniel, but the man only shrugged back. _Uncle Tony_ didn't sound right. He was too young, he didn't want to be her Uncle Tony. But _Cousin Tony_ didn't quite fit either. Hal was more Tony’s cousin, and this was Hal's daughter. Tony knew he was more than a friend, more than even a family friend. He was family. But what exactly did that make him to Sharon?

The simple solution came to him then, in a sudden inspired moment of clarity.

“I’m-” Tony gulped, chest oddly tight as he looked at the baby, Hal’s arm around his shoulders. “I’m your Tony."

* * *

**_2016_ **

Tony huffed as he reached the platform Sharon was on, already waiting at the door. He swore he was going to rip out every stairway in all of his properties. He was never going to look at a stair again. _Never again_. Tony wasn't sure if he had a stitch in his side, or if he’d actually gone and broken a rib climbing all those stairs. _Never_.

“This way?”

“Think so,” Tony gasped.

Sharon nodded, and when Tony nodded back, she cracked open the doorway and they slipped out. They were on a maintenance walkway along the edge of the hangar bay, a helicopter and its crew working two storeys below. And across the floor of the hangar, Sharon spied a heavily guarded door that looked promising as a control room.  

She started to lead them out along the walkway, keeping close to the flooring to minimise the risk of being seen by those below, when a door further along the way burst open. Sharon and Tony had their guns up ready to fight, only to see it was-

“Michael!” Tony cheered, grinning brightly as he stepped forward.

Even Sharon started forward, so relieved to find their rescue - _and what a rescue_ \- but she faltered at the terrified expression on Michael’s pale face. And it didn't seem just a reaction to all the blood on Tony, or both their general roughed up appearances.

“Tony, wait,” Sharon reached out to him. “Something’s wrong—”

The blonde woman behind Michael suddenly shouted, pointing up, “Look out!”

Sharon hadn't even twitched before Tony’s head had snapped up, eyes round as he gave her a hard shove. 

She fell forward, stumbling into Michael’s arms as he ran to them.

Tony fell back, as a figure jumped down from the walkway above them.

By the time Sharon was on her feet again, she turned around in horror to find Red Skull with an arm around Tony’s neck, holding them both precariously over the railing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. Trip. That Trip. Because he is _definitely_ alive. Yes.
> 
> Also, totally no idea how a submarine works, so suspend your disbelief with me here as I smash together info I found on the internet. And entirely make up the layout of the Raft.
> 
> **New Characters:**
> 
> Kenta 'Ken' Dugan - b.1986, grandson of Howling Commandos Dum Dum Dugan, by his son Tim Jr, and Jim Morita, by is daughter Hana. Expert gymnast and MMA fighter.
> 
> Antoine 'Trip' Triplett - b.1982, grandson of Howling Commando Gabe Jones, by his daughter Kezia. Former SHIELD agent (you may have seen him on Agents of SHIELD).


	9. Howard & Maria

**_1991_ **

Maria blinked.

The last thing she remembered had been a bright flash, a loud _pop_ , and the car was suddenly speeding, and Howard was yelling,and there was a tree-

 _Howard_. 

She forced herself to focus over the deafening roar of blood in her ears and pounding in her head, taking in the car around her. It was a wreck, and Maria knew the warm tacky feeling on her face was blood. Her seatbelt was stuck, pinning her, a bruise burning as it cut across her chest. 

“H-Howard?”

She turned to the side, but the seat was empty. The car door was open too, and Maria could make out the back of his jacket. _Howard_ , he was shuffling on the ground, weakly calling out for help, calling help for her. Maria opened her mouth to call him back when she realised the roaring wasn’t just in her ears. 

A beam of light cut across the car, and in the cracked mirrors she saw a motorcycle spin to a stop on the road behind them.

_Thank god, there’s help._

“Please,” she heard Howard say. He must have heard the motorcycle too. “Help my wife.”

A man slid off the bike, Maria heard his heavy steps as he walked, unhurried, to her husband. A bad feeling began to curdle in her gut. Howard didn't seem to realise anything was wrong. 

“Please. Help her.”

 _No, no_ \- Maria watched as the man grabbed Howard by the hair, _no_ , and Howard groaned before freezing suddenly.

“Sergeant… Barnes?”

Maria gaped at the name, one the whole country knew, one her husband knew, an old colleague, an almost friend, impossibly here. _Maybe it was help after all-_ but before she could even feel the relief, the man drove his fist into Howard’s face.

“Howard!” the ragged scream tore out of her throat, Maria panting in fear, tugging at her seatbelt. 

She had to do something. She had to help him. She had to—

But the man had already hit him again. And again and again and- Howard’s arms dropped and Maria knew, she _knew_ but she couldn't imagine that he was— “ _Howard!_ ”

The man dragged Howard back to the car, and Maria sobbed as he set Howard in his seat, leaning against the steering wheel. _Not Howard, not my Howard, please_. His face was broken and bloody, eyes still open as Maria cried and cried, sure that the burning in her chest was really her heart being ripped apart.

Howard was gone. 

She grabbed his hand, still warm, as she listened to the heavy footsteps rounding the back of the car. 

With each step, Maria became less frightened. She knew what was about to happen. That man was going to kill her too. Barnes or whoever he was. The threat of death had long loomed over her since she’d become involved with Howard, but Maria was surprised by how calm she was actually facing it now.

But then… Howard was gone. Maria felt half-deadalready. 

She turned away from Howard and closed her eyes as the footsteps grew louder, determined that his bloodied face wouldn't be how she remembered him as she followed. She thought back to before at the house, how handsome he was in his suit, as ashadow crossed her window. She thought of Tony, the three of them gathered around the piano, as a hand slipped through the window frame.

Maria clung tightly to Howard’s hand.

* * *

**_2016_ **

“You will be quiet. You will not argue with Rhodes. You will _assist_ only. Is that clear?”

Natasha had paused on every face around the table then. Most looked grim or grumpy to varying degrees, but she hadn't expected differently. Rhodes had been very hard to talk down into allowing them this much as it was, but everyone had nodded. And to their credit, they had co-operated as she’d asked,  _demanded_.

She’d seen the surprise and bitten back questions on Steve’s face when the rescue team’s specs had been pulled up on one side. Had seen Barnes face when he realised he recognised some of the names. Natasha held back her own surprise, unaware that Tony’s network of friends had been so extensive. 

And what a useful bunch too. 

Sousa had an impressive military history, Tripplet was former SHIELD, Danvers was currently on loan from the Air Force to NASA, and Dugan was a world champion gymnast and MMA trainer. The only two on the team who were a real mystery were Carter and the woman he’d brought with him. Rhodes said he had no idea what Carter even _did_ , and all he knew about her was that Dana Grace was a medic. 

 _Typical_ , Natasha was going to be the one dealing with wildcards for two-thirds of her group.

_“Sousa, status?”_

_“In position.”_

Natasha had been tense at the table, but she wasn't unprepared. T'Challa was seamlessly working with Vision half a world away, prepared to back up her and Rhodes when they guided the teams. A map of the Raft was blown up on a clear screen, little lit up dots clustered together just outside it in the submarine Rhodes had acquired from Pepper - _the Nautilus, seriously Tony?_  

_“On my mark, Dugan, engage the clamp on the Raft. FRIDAY will connect the breach extension to the hull.”_

_“Copy.”_

There had been the debacle of the blackout, but true to Dugan’s word the power returned almost immediately.

“What the shit!”

Her attention broke from the dots on the map to Scott, who was gaping at one of the feeds. Not from the rescuers, from the Raft. She looked and had to bite back a curse of her own at her initial scan. 

 _Blood_. There was a lot of blood on the screen, and Tony in the middle of it, wrestling a man to the floor.

 _Fuck_ , she hoped all that blood wasn't from Tony.

It was difficult to tell on the video, Tony was covered in it, but he didn't seem to be slowing down much. And it wasn't him lying in the pool of blood motionless. Natasha blew up the feed, zooming in, cutting a vicious grin as Tony’s fist snapped out and the man under him dropped, before moving to the podium. 

Clint whistled, “ _Jesus_ , I forgot 'bout all that muscle.”

 _“Romanov?”_ Carter hissed on the comm, silently knocking down a grunt. 

“Up ahead, take the stairway,” Natasha said, watching the wild fury as Sharon burst out of her cell and dived headfirst into a brawl with the remaining grunts. Tony cut a surprisingly fragile figure, curled up by the podium, but Sharon had him. “Sharon and Tony are gonna be on the move.”

_“What?! Are they alright?”_

“They’re fine.” Natasha kicked at Clint under the table as she passed him control of the Raft feeds, pointing at Sharon and Tony. He shot a sloppy salute, eyes already scanning the videos as he followed the duo through the facility. “Carter, you’re gonna have to hurry up, they're out of the cells.”

_“You sure they're okay?”_

“Tony’s shaky, but he’s on his feet. They’re on the move,” she answered calmly, eyes scanning her group’s location on the map. Clint curled his fingers in a quick sign to Natasha. “Looks like they're heading up. Take the next left.”

_“Copy.”_

“Three more ahead of you. Prepare to engage again.”

Carter’s team was meeting more resistance than expected. The new route they’d had to take to follow Tony and Sharon had them passing right by the barracks. A quick check in with Vision though, and Natasha was assured that Skull was still clear of Carter’s team, still headed for Sousa’s group. For now, Sharon and Tony were still safe.

* * *

**_1986_ **

“You said it would be safer, sending him there!”

“He has been!” Howard yelled. “Five years at that school, and no serious incidents until now. The satellite office was doing its job keeping an eye on the boy.”

“Then how did Tony get taken?” Maria snapped.

“I asked Nick to keep an eye out as a favour,” Howard hissed. “They’re still SHIELD agents with important jobs to do.”

Maria narrowed her eyes, “Are you saying Tony isn't important?”

“That isn't what I'm saying - I'm saying they couldn't watch the boy all hours!” Howard stomped up and down the room, glaring at everything and nothing, Ana and Jarvis hovering outside the room not daring to enter. “SHIELD has agents out. For now, we wait for a ransom call, or hell knows.”

Her knuckles were white with how tightly Maria was clenching her hands, fingers locked, pressed down in her lap. “Will you pay them?”

“No.”

“ _Howard_ —”

“No, Maria,” Howard said firmly. “I give them something now, they’ll ask for more. They’ll keep asking if I keep giving, and it’ll end up me with no more to give and them with the boy still in their hands—”

“Tony! Not just _the boy_ , this is Tony—”

“I know it’s Tony! I know that’s my SON!” Maria watched him collapse into a chair, but couldn't bring herself to go to him, frozen herself in her seat. Howard dropped forward, hands scrubbing at his face, pulling roughly at his grey hair. “Damn it… _Damn it_.”

“They wouldn’t—” Maria’s chin trembled. “They wouldn’t—”

Howard’s voice was dead as he answered her, “He’s worth more to them alive.”

Maria gave a jerky nod, and forced herself not to look at the clock on the wall or the phone on the side table. Forced herself not to think of what could be happening to Tony now. Or what terrible things might be being done to her son. How scared, or shocked, or hurt Tony might be right now. Maria didn't even know where he was in the world, it wouldn't be the first time kidnappers had taken Tony out of the country.

Although they'd only ever gotten as far as Canada, before Tony’s crying as a small boy had alerted enough people to catch them. But Tony was still a small boy. Her small boy. _Hers_. Maria didn't like it when people took what was hers.

She clenched her fingers tighter and clenched her jaw until her teeth ached.

The shrill ring was shocking in the tense air.

Howard fumbled for the phone, Ana and Jarvis holding each other in the doorway, as they all waited for him to answer.

“Hello?”

Maria sucked in a breath, watching every twitch on her husband’s face. Howard blinked, his throat bobbing and hands shaking. Maria didn't have the mind to decipher if that was good or bad right now.

“Yes?” Howard said evenly. “Alright… I see… Thank you.”

He carefully hung up, eyes still on the phone.

“That was Nick. He found the location. It looked like an explosion went off.” Maria braced herself.  _Explosion_ , that could— did that mean— “Tony escaped. He just turned up at a local police station, they're taking him to the hospital for minor burns and bruises now.”

Ana sobbed with relief in the doorway, Jarvis holding her tighter, as Maria breathed. 

Howard shot to his feet and suddenly kicked over the side table. It fell with a crash, the phone breaking with a clatter as it hit the hardwood floor. 

No one said anything. They waited and watched the transformation as Howard At Home became Howard Stark Consummate Business Tycoon. He straightened his shirt and ran a quick hand through his hair, “I’m going to meet with Nick, he’s got the kidnappers in custody.”

“Tony—?”

“He’s fine,” he snapped, storming from the room. “Jarvis! Get the car!”

“I- right away, Sir.”

“Are you going to check on Tony?” Maria called after them, but the men were already gone out the door. 

It was a good thing Howard was going to see the kidnappers. Maria had gone last time, and it hadn't ended prettily. For _them_. Maria had surprised everyone and herself with her fury, and she didn't like that loss of control. Maria sighed, looking down at her hands. She couldn't get her fingers tounlock. 

“Ana, get me a drink. Please. Something strong.”

Ana sniffed, mopping at her face with a handkerchief as she nodded, “Yes, Miss.”

She disappeared through the doorwaytoo, and Maria was left staring at hands that were going numb.

* * *

**_2016_ **

Since before the serum, Steve had always been a quick study. After the serum, that just got enhanced, like the rest of him. He’d only needed one look at the specs of the rescuers to have them stuck in his head, whether he closed his eyes or read something else, the information wouldn't leave him.

It had been a long time coming, really. Steve was aware that he’d heavily been in denial when he first woke up in the 21st Century, he’d just suppressed a lot of painful thoughts. He was good at that. It meant all the files SHIELD had given him on his old teammates had gone mostly unopened. He’d read the ‘DECEASED’, ‘INACTIVE’ or ‘RETIRED’ on the front, and that had been enough. He didn't want to know more. Not yet. _Later_.

But ‘later’ never seemed to arrive. The files were gathering dust in a drawer in his office back at the compound. The closest Steve had ever gotten to unravelling any of the lives his old friends had led was at Peggy’s funeral, and that was only by listening to Sharon’s eulogy, and those of others, including Peggy’s son. Her _son_ , who was now on a mission to rescue Tony, his _godbrother_ —

Steve felt his chest go tight as his eyes followed the little dots on the map. 

Michael, that was his name. He hadn't realised it had been the same Michael that had spoken at Peggy’s funeral because he hadn't recognised the last name - but of course, he’d have another last name, Peggy had gotten married, _you idiot_ , and hadn't there been a little girl too in those photos? 

Then there were the other names that Steve had scanned from the specs. _Dugan. Morita. Jones_. These were the Commandos’ kids - grandkids - _fuck_. Steve tried to imagine the look on Jim’s face when he found out Dum Dum’s boy had asked out his little girl, but he couldn't get over the tightening in his chest, it was like the asthma was back, which was impossible, he just couldn’t—

“Stevie.” A warm hand dropped on his shoulder, and Steve opened his eyes, _when had they closed_? It was Bucky’s hand on his shoulder, but he wasn't the only one looking at Steve from around the table. On his other side he sawSam’s concerned gaze, Wanda was staring from behind him, and even Natasha shot Steve odd looks from across the table. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Steve said, though he didn't shake off the hand on his shoulder. It was something to focus on. That and the actual _rescue mission Steve_ , this wasn’t the time to be dwelling on past regrets.

But then… that was the whole problem, wasn't it? When he didn't deal with his problems, Steve noticed they wound up smacking him in the face later. 

“I’m fine.”

Bucky let it go for now, and they both tuned back into the activity around the table. 

Steve’s eyes were inevitably drawn back to the feed showing Tony and Sharon, crouched at a corner, whispering to each other. He watched the whole body stutter Tony had when Sharon raised his - _no, not his_ \- shield, and they stepped out to meet more danger together.

They made a brilliant team though, Steve noted. Sharon didn't have his experience with the shield, but she made it work as a distraction, their enemy’s attention diverted as they were taken down by bullets and fists.

Steve hadn't realised how _physical_ Tony could be in a fight. Which was stupid, _what did he think Tony did in a fight_ , the suit just made him harder to hit. Without it though, with Tony half covered in blood, one arm useless, just a gun in his hand, that dark bruise vivid across his chest, he looked so vulnerable to Steve. So human.

“I never realised how freakin’ scary Stark could be,” Sam said quietly, watching Tony knee another grunt. 

“What?” Steve blinked at his friend. Dangerous, sure, intimidating even, but Steve had never looked at Tony and thought to label him ‘scary’.

“If what Natasha said before is true,” Sam said, leaning closer under T’Challa’s curious gaze. “I’d hate to have been in the room when he heard about Wideawake.”

There was a darkness to Tony’s expression, whenever the video caught him about to take on another bad guy. Something Steve had seen before on another face. On Bucky’s face. A sort of hatred.

“Was he always like that?”

Steve thought back to their first meeting. 

Tony, all quips, a hand held out to Bruce, putting his life in Steve’s hands as he dove into the turbine, no hesitation as he seamlessly worked with Clint and Thor, ‘ _call it, Cap_ ’…

“I don't think so,” Steve said softly, watching Sharon gently take a wobbling Tony by the arm and guiding him to the stairwell. “I don't know.”

* * *

**_1978_ **

Maria sighed as she watched Howard pour out a drink in his office, the last of the camera crew milling about in the background, no one daring to disturb the man as he downed another drink. She ushered them out and honestly didn't think Howard had noticed that it was only the two of them in the office now.

“Difficult day?”

Howard grunted, setting the tumbler down on the desk as he ran a hand through his hair. Maria could just spot the smudges of grey at his temples, all that Howard allowed of his natural colour, saying it added an authority to his image. She just called it vanity and slapped his ass.

“Did you at least finish everything?”

“I’ll review it tomorrow to confirm once they do the editing,” he said, staring out of the window.

Maria crossed her arms, tired of talking to his back. “Jarvis is driving Tony home.”

At their son’s name, Howard flinched and turned to face her. She read the guilt in the lines on his face. “He was messing with the model—”

“He just wanted to spend time with you.”

“I didn't know the shoot would take all day!” Howard snapped. “You could have just gone out without waiting for me.”

“Yes, that’s what Tony was looking forward to after you’d promised him-”

Howard smacked his hands down on the desk, startling her. He didn't say anything, breathing heavily, back to her again. But then, Maria knew him well enough to read anyway.

“Still no luck with your element?”

His angry huff was answer enough. “It’s the key to the future, Maria. I know it is. It would unlock _so much_ , but I just can’t reach it…”

She walked past to the Stark Expo model, running a hand along the border, “Then you know what to do, for someone who will.” 

Maria tugged him away from the desk, managing to get a small smile from him when she pressed a quick kiss to his lips, loosening his tie and setting it on the desk. She nodded to the camera equipment left behind, and Howard sighed tiredly back.

“Do you know what to say?” Maria asked, setting the film roll ready to record. “Or will this take another day too?”

“I know what to say,” Howard waved a hand impatiently, and she sent him off with another kiss to stand in front of the model city. “Let’s do this.”

Checking once more that he was framed properly, Maria shot a thumbs up at him. She watched him take a deep breath, staring straight into the camera lens with a quick smile.

“Tony…” he began. “You’re too young to understand this right now, so I thought I would put it on film for you…”

He didn't say the ‘just in case’ that rang in Maria’s head. A waking fear that hung over her head every day. Threats were levied against Howard and his family every day because of his policies, his company, his reputation, his money, his old dalliances sometimes. Maria was more than aware that she might suddenly become a widow, or Tony an orphan.

“I built this for you,” Howard said, gesturing to the model behind him. “And someday you’ll realise that it represents a whole lot more than just people’s inventions. It represents my life’s work. This is the key to the future. I’m limited by the technology of my time, but one day you’ll figure this out. And when you do… you will change the world.”

Maria’s lips quirked in a soft smile at her husband. 

“What is and always will be my greatest creation… is _you_.”

* * *

**_2016_ **

“That… that’s Morita’s kid, isn't it?” Bucky asked, nudging Steve with an elbow. The kid was performing crazy acrobatic stunts on the screen as he tackled grunts left and right. The moves were in no way efficient, but they were thrilling to watch, and Bucky had to admit it was doing the job of attracting the attention to his group.

Steve nodded, “Grandkid. Dum Dum’s too.”

“And that one-”

“Gabe,” Steve said. “Jones.”

“Huh,” Bucky smiled a little. 

These people were small links to his past, and Bucky… Bucky _remembered_ those links. It had taken most of the last year to even get past the most horrifying and painful of his screwed-up memories, but when the pleasant ones started trickling in, it began with Steve. 

A different Steve, smaller, weaker, just as scrappy. Following Steve were the memories of Bucky’s own family - but they were too painful in a different way. 

So he’d waited, Bucky was good at waiting, and there had been less painful memories, of a group, of laughter and teasing and good men at his back, and the Howling Commandos had slowly emerged from a fog. Bucky had clung to those memories, those half-dreams, when the worst ones kept him up for days and weeks. Read back on them over and over in his notebooks, trying to drown himself back in that laughter. Back in that warmth.

Watching these kids now, his age and older, it sort of reminded Bucky of the best parts of being with the Howlies. And of course Stark would've kept them together. Bucky wondered about the others like Monty, did he move back after the War, have a family in the UK somewhere—

_“Shit, where- Vis do you see him?”_

_“Say again, Rhodes. What was that?”_

_“We lost visual on Skull.”_

Fear like icy spiders scuttled down Bucky’s spine, and he could feel it creeping like fingers across his head too. 

The Soldier training was peeking through, and not for the first time Bucky didn't batter that side of him down, didn't fight it. Because while he was feeling the worry, the fear, for those on the Raft with Red Skull on the loose, at the same time the Soldier was already assessing the feeds, predicting what patterns and strategies Skull might be using. 

_Where would Skull go?_

If it was Bucky, he knew his strategy would be evasion, escape, cutting his losses and getting the hell out of there. The chaos of an onboard assault would be the perfect opportunity to make a run for the escape pods, while the lower ranking grunts fell as cannon fodder buying him time.

But Bucky wasn't Red Skull.

_Where would Red Skull go?_

The real question was - what did Bucky know about Red Skull? He’d always been more Steve’s nemesis than his, though Bucky had no doubts he’d had a laugh over turning Captain America’s best friend into a weapon for Hydra. But Steve wasn't even there. 

This was about Stark. 

Seventy years, space, galaxies, Masters and other worlds, a new name, a new face, and after all that, what did Skull still want? Stevie dead. And how did he think he was going to get that?

_This was about Stark._

Red Skull didn't let go. Wouldn’t. _Couldn’t?_ Whatever it was, he _didn't let things go_. Bucky suddenly knew where Skull would go - because there was only one thing that madman would be planning to do right now.

Bucky shoved to one side, knocking Clint off his chair with a squawk. He ignored the archer’s complaints, fingers whipping through the Raft feeds. Clint’s voice tapered off as he joined him scanning the videos, Bucky ignoring the discomfort of someone leaning over his shoulder because _this was important_ , he had to find the—

“Here!” Bucky cried, throwing the feed down the table to T'Challa. “Tell Rhodes he’s at the top of the—”

“Vision, Barnes located the—” T'Challa rattled out.

_“Colonel - there. Sergeant Barnes spotted him—”_

_“Oh shit, Michael, go!”_

* * *

**_1973_ **

Maria leant her head against the window, looking drained. Howard squeezed her hand in his, counting the long seconds until he felt her squeeze back. 

“If we lose this one…” Howard listened carefully, eyes fixed on the raised partition in the front of the car. He waited for Maria to finish. “Or even if we don't, I’m not trying again, Howard. I can’t.”

Howard nodded, he hadn't expected different, they - _she_ \- had already tried so many times. For something neither of them had particularly desired. 

He couldn't and wouldn't ask any more from her. Lifting her hand, Howard pressed a kiss to the back of it, holding his lips there. Maria slumped back tiredly, leaning into him a little now for the first time since the doctor's visit.

“When this is all over, we’ll take a long vacation. Just us.”

“It might not be ‘just us’, Howard.”

“All the more reason for a vacation.”

Maria pressed a hand to her belly, gazing out of the window at the red and gold painting the trees.

* * *

**_2016_ **

“What’s going on?” Hal hissed into the comm. He had a hand on Trip’s back as he peered around the corner. “Romanov?”

 _“Carter you have to move,”_ Romanov barked. _“Skull’s nearly on top of them. Sousa’s team is making their way there but-”_

The back under Hal’s hand disappeared, and he bit back a curse as Trip darted around the corner alone, gun raising hell already in a  _rat-at-at_. He ran after him, getting anyone Trip hadn't, the last of their team with him every step. Dana looked determined as she leapt over the downed men, her eyes keeping track of both Trip and Hal as they moved with force down the hallway.

Hal was relieved Trip paused at the next T-junction, but only long enough to tap his comm, “Which way, Agent Romanov?”

_“Take the left.”_

Trip sprinted down the hallway, Dana on his tail, leaving Hal to answer Romanov - if she hadn't already seen them on the cameras.

“Copy,” Hal grunted, running after his team. 

* * *

**_1967_ **

Howard followed his wife into their bedroom, watching her remove her pearls and unpin her hair, the purse of her lips enough to tell him she was still angry. He joined her at the armoire when she struggled to unzip her dress, taking over the task for her.

“Maria…”

He winced as she spun, blonde hair whipping him in the face, as Maria went to sit on the bed to remove her shoes and stockings, uncaring that her dress was falling from her shoulders now. Howard sighed. She hadn't looked at him since they'd left the dinner.

“Maria—”

He ducked as a high-heel was hurled far over his head, more warning than a threat. “You _said_!”

“I know,” Howard raised his hands. This wasn't the first time a woman had thrown something at him, and Maria was weighing her other shoe in one hand. “I know, but Obie thinks—”

“I don't _care_ what Obadiah said, you _promised_  no more weapons!” Maria growled. 

“There’s a lot of backlash with the whole Vanko thing! SI needs to get back on top, and it isn't like we aren't familiar with government contracts.”

“For _research_ ,” Maria said standing, crossing her arms. “For science. For body armour and defence. For technology.”

“Technically, weapons manufacturing is an area of technology.”

“ _You_ said after what you did in the Manhattan Project—” Howard felt a chill at the name, and he knew Maria had caught his reaction by the gleam in her eyes. “You said you wouldn't make another weapon, that you wouldn't set loose another ‘bad baby’ on the world like that. It’s why you're still looking for Captain America, isn't it? To get back a part of you that _saved_ people—”

“There are people depending on SI for a living, whole communities,” Howard said. “I’m containing the issue of Vanko’s defection by taking credit for the arc reactor, but they’re talking treason with my name again. Supplying weapons for our boys would boost morale, it’ll give the company good capital, settle the board.”

Maria shook her head at him, scoffing. “That’s amazing. Your mouth is moving, but all I'm hearing is Obadiah's voice.”

“He isn't wrong in this!” Howard snapped. “The loss of the company would mean the loss of thousands of jobs, _millions_ of dollars, years of work just gone - I don't say this often, my darling, but frankly, _this isn't about me!_ ”

They stared at one another for an age, Howard unsure where this argument would go, because in this he would not budge. Maria was right in how he was going back on his word, _but what was one man’s word against the lives of thousands?_ He had a responsibility to more than himself, and what was a little more blood on his already stained hands by now? 

No. Stark Industries was back in the weapons industry at the start of the next quarter, and Maria was going to have to accept that.

She must have seen how set he was because she said nothing else and returned to the armoire to peel off her dress and hang it up. There was a slump in her shoulders as they disappeared into her dressing gown, and Howard wanted to kiss away the sadness, but he held himself back. He would not be swayed this time. Instead, he picked up her discarded heels to put away.

“Will you make me a new promise?” Maria asked quietly from her dressing table as she wiped her face clean of make-up.

Howard moved to stand behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Depends on the promise.”

“Don’t leave the company to Obadiah.”

He snorted, half-amused at the pout that pulled on Maria’s face. “You know, if you get to know him, you might find you actually like him.”

“I don't care about liking him,” Maria huffed. “I don't trust that man.”

“Well, he’s all I’ve got for options if anything happens to me.”

Maria shook her head, “It frightens me, the idea of Obadiah with the company. All that power in his hands… those weapons…”

Howard frowned, she really seemed scared, something he hadn't seen before. _Or had he just not noticed?_ He hadn't realised her dislike of Obie was so deep. “I'm not lying when I say I'm out of other options. No one else knows the business of the company as well as him, except me.”

She had her thinking expression on, eyes seeing numbers in the air no one else could. It was fascinating to watch, but Howard wondered what she was calculating now. 

“What are you thinking of?”

“Other options.”

* * *

**_2016_ **

Michael threw himself at the door, stumbling out onto the walkway, Rhodes yelling in one ear as he was already turning to see—

“Michael!”

Tony - _fuck_ \- the state of him. It would give Michael nightmares, he just knew it. This whole thing was gonna give him a whole new set of nightmares. Tony was going to be lucky if Michael let him out of his sight for the next goddamn _decade_  at this rate. He looked a mess, but the smile on his face was bright as ever, not even the blood on his lips darkened the joyful look on his face. 

And Sharon at his side. Sharon, standing tall and grim and deadly, Captain America’s shield on one arm. Her gun was up, though she started to lower it when she recognised him, and Michael was so fiercely proud of their little Sharon.

It didn't make him feel any less terrified of what was coming. From the last report Rhodes had in, Skull was too close. Michael didn't think he’d actually beat him to Tony and Sharon, but it had to be close.

“Tony, wait,” Sharon must’ve seen the naked terror in his eyes. “Something’s wrong—”

“Look out!” Carol yelled behind him. 

Michael didn't bother looking, knowing what it must be, _who_ , he just ran. Sharon collided into him halfway, shoved forward, nearly bowling them both over, but it was much more terrible a sight when they stood upright again. 

Skull with an arm around Tony’s neck.

He was as horrible as Mom’s old stories of Red Skull said he would be.

There was a moment of stillness, shock, as both sides just stared at each other.

And then Red Skull took a step further back out on the walkway over the hangar bay, holding him and Tony both dangerously over the edge. Skull’s men milling below on the hangar floor had their guns up, but with Skull on the walkway with them, no one was risking a shot.

“I wouldn't take another step,” Skull sneered. “Not if you value Mr Stark’s life.”

Michael glared at the man, hands balling into fists, the knuckle-dusters recharging with a faint whirr. From the side, he saw Ken crouched with a glare of his own, Carol and Sharon with their guns trained on Skull, though they had no clear shot with Tony held in front of him like that. They were at a stalemate.

“You’re outnumbered here, Skull. Let him go.”

Skull laughed, curling his arm tighter. “And what? You’ll let _me_ go? We know that’s not going to happen.”

Tony grunted, trying to turn in Skull’s grip, but he was down a working arm and off-balance, Skull grabbing and pinning Tony’s good arm to his chest. 

 _“Michael, just hold him there a little longer,”_ Rhodes muttered through the comm. _“Hal’s almost to you, just keep Skull busy.”_

“What are you gonna do?” Michael asked. “You aren't going anywhere with Tony.”

“I could go over,” Skull said, jerking his head over the railing. 

It was a two storey drop, with a hard landing, and that was if you didn't collide with the rotor blades of the helicopter below. “And die?”

“I have the serum to save me,” Skull said, confident, shaking Tony in his grip. “Mr Stark would not be so fortunate if you force my hand like that.”

“We aren’t just going to let you take him,” Sharon spat.

Red Skull gave a dark chuckle. Michael was surprised Tony hadn't piped up by now, but he was pulling some impressive facial acrobatics with his eyes and brows. Michael had no idea what he meant, but Ken was nodding minutely, which couldn't be good. _A plan cooked up by those two?_ Michael prepared himself for anything and hoped Hal would appear soon.

Skull took another step back. They stepped forward. 

“I need him,” Skull taunted them as he kept Tony between him and the guns. “But in the end, I need him dead. It’s no matter to me if it’s here or not, the ending is the same, and my plans will adapt. If I take us over, only one of us is walking away. Are you prepared for—”

A gunshot echoed in the empty space of the hangar, and Skull jerked. 

His grip faltered on Tony’s right arm, and Tony seized his chance, clocking an elbow right in Skull’s chest, before planting one foot on the railing opposite. 

Michael's heart stuttered in his chest as he realised what Tony was doing. “No! Tony, _no_!”

But it was too late. 

With a grunt, Tony pushed, and he and Skull tip backwards over the edge, grappling with Skull in the air. Someone knocked Michael over, but he was certain his legs would've gone out from under him anyway, as he watched Tony fall through the air.

* * *

**_1959_ **

The sun was baking, but the ocean breeze and shade from the trees kept them from overheating on the beach. Howard sighed contently on the lounger, wearing only his sunglasses. And in his arms, as naked as he was, Maria lay sunning herself too. It was too hot to be sunbathing together like this, but Howard couldn't make himself let her go. 

The spontaneous vacation to the Bahamas had been filled by an almost dream-like quality for Howard, and he knew Obie was gonna give him an earful for it when he got back, but he couldn't care less. Not with Maria breathing softly against his neck, fingers rubbing gentle circles on his chest, only the two of them and the cresting waves on the private beach he’d hired out.

Howard twined a lock of her hair around his finger, wondering how it would look when the golden strands turned silver. Wondering if she’d still look as beautiful when there were creases around her mouth and eyes, when things started to sag. Wondering if _he’d_ still find her beautiful.

 _Yes_ , he thought to himself. 

For the first time in years, Howard wasn't wallowing on the past or dreading the future. He wanted to stay in this one moment forever. But he didn't want to stay in the moment alone.

“Marry me.”

He wanted to be a _them_ , just the two of them.

For a minute, Maria didn't move, eyes still closed, head resting on his shoulder. Her hand hadn't stopped its circles though, and she was still relaxed. Howard held his breath.

“Alright.”

A grin stretched Howard’s face, one he couldn't control. He saw one creeping across Maria’s face too. With a roar of laughter, Howard flipped them over, Maria squealing as they rolled off the lounger and toppled into the sand, pulling her in for a kiss.

It would be scandalous when they got back. She was almost two decades younger, a brilliant mathematician, but hardly from a wealthy or influential background. He was over forty, the CEO of a multi-million company that had just renewed a defence contract with the government. 

But, as Howard pressed kisses down Maria’s throat, he couldn't help grinning against her skin, excited at the start of a new adventure. He wondered if maybe that vein on Obie’s forehead would finally pop when he heard.

* * *

**_2016_ **

“Someone pull us the fuck up!” 

Ken dangled from the walkway, legs gripping the railing as his torso hung below. And clutched in his arms, upside down, with his legs wrapped back around Ken’s chest, was Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK AT THIS BEAUTIFUL GIFT THAT [fr0st6yte](http://fr0st6yte.tumblr.com) HAS GIFTED ME WITH
> 
> TAKE A LOOK AT THE [CARTER COUSINS](https://riverlander974.tumblr.com/post/148404120367/fr0st6yte-carter-cousins-chronicles), THE [LEGACIES](https://riverlander974.tumblr.com/post/148404375857/fr0st6yte-carter-cousins-chronicles) [PROTOCOL](https://riverlander974.tumblr.com/post/148404443657/fr0st6yte-my-girl-legacies-protocol-jim) TEAM, AND THE REST OF [TONY'S FAMILY](https://riverlander974.tumblr.com/post/148404957077/fr0st6yte-oh-my-god-i-forgot-this-one-so)!!!
> 
> I'm still crying over it.
> 
> **New Characters:**
> 
> Dana Grace - British medic, friend of Hal Carter.


	10. Tony

**_1988_ **

It had honestly been a while since Tony had last attended one of these big reunions. 

Between school and his other projects, as well as various Commandos being in-and-out of the state or the country, it had been a case of crossed schedules. There was a lot to celebrate this year though; two births; several big job promotions; Gabe was 70; Mary had her first degree… the last _big_ reunion like this with nearly everyone’s families was in ’84.

Tony remember Antoine being a lot smaller then. 

He was still small, but last time Tony had seen him, Tony himself had only been ten, and shuffled off by Jarvis to bed earlier than he’d liked. Now he was fourteen, he didn't have a bedtime, and he had planned on sticking it out the night and watching everyone get bawdier as the evening wore on.

But he’d spotted the little boy standing by his mother’s chair, smiling, but fidgeting and clinging to Kez’s hand too. He probably hadn't met a lot of these older people recent enough to remember them. Tony tried to imagine what it felt like, but it didn't seem strange to Tony, who’d lived his whole life as the youngest in the room.

Now… he wasn't the youngest anymore. 

It was probably all that time he spent cooing over baby Sharon lately making him soft, but Tony hadn't really interacted much with people his age or younger regularly before, and found himself wanting to try, to not be like those mean older classmates he’d suffered, to reach out a hand. _Six, fourteen, it's basically the same thing_.

Strolling over to Kez, he offered a kiss to her and a smile to Antoine. The little boy smiled back but still leaned into his mother’s side. 

“Hey, I don't know if you remember me…”

Antoine shook his head, “Sorry.”

“That’s okay, last time we met you were really little. I’m Tony, and you're Antoine.” Tony puffed out his chest, “You were basically named after me.”

Kez snorted, and Tony stuck his tongue out at her. Antoine giggled.

“It’s _true_ , I see how much you love me, Kezia, don't think I don’t,” Tony grinned. “Anthony. Antoine. I'm honoured you've given me a mini-me. Really, couldn't be more thrilled.”

Kez was shaking her head, her shoulders shaking with her laughs, when a little voice blurted out, “Does that mean we can be friends?”

Tony blinked, and tried to remember the last time someone had offered to be friends. 

He was drawing a blank outside of family friends, which didn't count in this. He ignored Kez’s warm look, grin softening as he looked at Antoine, fidgeting more and looking embarrassed after his excited question. 

“We’re already friends, bud,” Tony said firmly. “I mean, we’re sharing a name! You wanna leave these old people with their old stories and go play Captain America instead?”

Antoine’s little face beamed, and he slipped his small hand in Tony’s. Kez dropped kisses on them both as they left, and Tony led them to the back past the kitchen, to the old playroom Aunt Peggy still kept with toys for just these occasions. 

Off in one corner was a playpen where Ken was happily occupied with stacking soft blocks and knocking them over, again and again. His big sister Bree was curled around a big stuffed bear nearby, engrossed in a book of big pictures with Ana. Tony pretended not to see Ana’s fond look at Tony with Antoine.

Tony headed for the toy-chest and pulled out the old helmet and plastic shield, sentimental old things that Jarvis had kept here when Howard had insisted on throwing them out. He felt a tug on his shirt. “Can I be Captain ‘Merica, Tony?”

Tony stared.

 _He’d_ always played Cap in these games, but then… he’d been the youngest, and the others had indulged him. If Antoine played Cap, Tony would have to play the bad guy, that was how playing Captain America worked. Like Michael and Mary had. Could he do it? 

Antoine’s hopeful smile - _already lethal at this age, it’d be a real heartbreaker when he grew_ \- was fading the longer Tony was silent. And that wouldn't do. Tony could play the villain, if his friends wanted to be the hero. 

Tony fitted the helmet on Antoine’s head. “Sure, Cap,” Tony grinned, handing over the plastic shield too. “There! Perfect.”

Antoine beamed.

Jumping to his feet, Tony pasted a superior look on his face. “Aha! _Mein Kapitän_ ,” he growled in a German accent, twirling an invisible moustache. “I see you have come to rescue your friends. You will not succeed.”

“My friends?” Antoine asked, adjusting the helmet.

Tony waved a hand at the playpen behind him. “But of course, Bucky Barnes!” Ken paused in stuffing a block in his mouth, blinking big eyes at them. “And Peggy Carter!” Bree’s head popped up, dark curls bouncing. “I, Herr Schmitt, have captured them for my _evil_ plans. I will not let you rescue them— _ack!_ ”

Rubbing the back of his head, Tony turned to see Bree sliding off Ana’s lap, picking up another soft toy with a devious look. “I don't need  _rescuin_ ’ if I'm _Peggy Carter!_ ”

“Point—”

Antoine chose that moment to jump on Tony with a battle cry, knocking him over. He landed with a grunt, pelted with another toy. Tony raised his arms to cover his head as Bree battered him with her teddy bear and Antoine threw himself across his chest. He could hear Ana laughing, and peeked open one eye in time to see little Bree offer a high-five to Antoine. 

He had to hold back a snicker himself, felled by six- and four-year-old kids. 

Ana suddenly stopped laughing, “Ken! No, wait, be careful—!”

Tony shot up and turned to see, scaling the playpen fence, apparently eager to join in the game—

* * *

**_2016_ **

“Pull us up!” Ken yelled again. 

He’d caught Tony, but it was an awkward catch. The mid-air tussle with Red Skull had turned Tony around just as Ken had jumped after him, so Ken now had his face mashed into the small of Tony’s back, arms locked around his hips, while Tony tried to keep his legs from flailing and kicking him in the ribs.

Ken didn't have the leverage to pull them back up himself. Not with Tony dangling as he was, throwing off his balance, and with only his own legs hooked onto the railing. But he hadn't hesitated to jump, because he wasn't alone up on that walkway.

“Holy _shit!_ ” Michael hissed, leaping up and leaning over the railing. He reached and grabbed Ken by the belt, arms straining as he tried to pull them up. “You two— _You two_ —!”

Sharon moved to help too, when the ricochet of gunfire sounded in the air. Michael felt Ken jerk, a warm spray hit his face, and Tony shouted as Ken’s arms loosened for a moment. 

“Ken?” Michael barked. He only heard a groan in reply. “ _Ken!_ ”

“M’not sure which is worse,” Ken grumbled. “That I got shot, or that I now have Tony’s ass in my face.”

Carol cursed, bending over the railing to return fire on the men on the hangar floor. Without their leader up here, they weren't hesitating to let loose their bullets on the walkways now. Even though they were in a ruddy _submarine_ that could sink if one bullet hit just the wrong— “James, I don't have a visual on Skull. Repeat, no visual on Skull. _Shit!_ ”

Sharon stood on Michael’s other side, picking off some men making their way up the stairs to the walkways. “What was the plan?”

“Get you and Tony out of here,” Michael huffed, shoulders straining. “That was my plan.”

“You can’t- you can’t let Skull get away!” Tony yelled from below, dizzy from the position and the pain. “He’s gonna—”

“I don't give a rat’s ass about Skull right now! Stop moving!”

“The _world is in danger_! You have to go after him!”

Michael planted his feet, holding tighter as he felt Ken’s legs give on the railing a little. Stretching to grab Tony like that had exposed more of his torso under the vest. One unlucky shot, and now Michael was looking at possibly losing them both if he let go. He wasn't going to let go. Even if that meant losing Skull.

“Michael!”

“Shut up, Tony!”

In the back of his mind, Michael knew there was no way he could pull Ken and Tony up to safety alone. He couldn't readjust his grip without dropping them, and Carol and Sharon were busy defending them from shooters, if one of them stopped, they were all liable to get shot. 

But staying like this meant Skull was getting away. If Carol hadn't seen a big red splat on the ground below, Michael knew what it meant. The bastard was off, they were losing him. Tony wasn't wrong. One way or another, they were going to lose something in this situation. _What do I do? What do I do?_

“Michael!” a voice bellowed.

On the walkway on the other side of the hangar, Michael spotted Hal crouched with his group, firing down at the men below. A spark of hope lit in his chest. _Not alone,_ Michael reminded himself. Hal was here. Hal had shot Red Skull. Hal had their back.

Hal was drawing gunfire away from them by being an insane madman and running up and down the walkway hurling insults along with bullets, the _raving lunatic_. As if Michael wasn't worried enough about everyone. Still…

“Sharon,” Michael grunted. “Sharon, prop the shield over there and gimme a hand.”

“But Skull! You have to—”

“Tony, I will _bite you in the ass_ , don't think I won’t do that,” Ken grouched, gritting his teeth. “And it will scar us both and no one will be happy.”

Sharon had already moved at Michael’s word, holding onto Ken’s belt too, while Michael stretched to grab the back of Ken’s vest and pulled. He stopped when Ken suddenly screamed, stomach sinking as his hand came away bloody. 

If he couldn’t- if he couldn't pull them up like that, Michael didn't have the reach to pull Ken and Tony up here without hurting them worse. He didn't know how bad Ken was shot, and if he hurt Ken too much there was a risk of him dropping Tony.

Sharon read the horror on his face clearly, hands tightening on Ken’s belt. “Hang on, we’ll figure something out. We just have to figure out how to—”

The familiar whine of repulsors echoed below, and Sharon gaped, heart leaping, at a streak whizzing over the men on the ground, taking them out in short blasts. An Iron Man suit, black and gold, came up to hover in front of them.

“Need a hand, boss?”

* * *

**_2015_ **

“Need a hand?”

Tony’s head shot up at the soft voice, face already creasing into a smile, “Pep.”

She was a beacon of perfection in the sea of destruction that was the Tower level they were on. Pepper delicately kicked aside debris with the toe of her heels as she made her way to Tony kneeling in the middle of it. She ran a hand through his hair, letting Tony rub his head against her hip, even though he was covered in plaster dust and Pepper was wearing a white dress. 

“I’m fine,” Tony said, nuzzling into her stomach. He waved a hand behind him. “I was just supervising DUM-E’s clean up.”

The bot lifted its claw at his name, excitedly waving at them and spilling all the debris out of the dustpan he was still holding. Pepper snorted and Tony sighed.

“Tragedy.”

DUM-E dropped his arm, the very picture of sorrow. 

“I'm glad you're finally getting around to cleaning this place up,” Pepper said. “I know how much you love this lab. How much you miss…”

Tony tensed, before heaving a deep sigh, “Thought it was about time. Can’t live in a dump forever.”

“You mean you finished all your other projects.”

“That too.”

“The team like the new compound?”

Tony nodded, leaning against Pepper more heavily. “You’re supposed to be in Shanghai for another week.”

“I missed you.”

Pepper saw the edge of Tony’s smile, and scratched her fingernails across his scalp. He practically purred under her hand. “Missed you too. But that’s not why you're here.”

Tony sat back on his heels and stood, holding Pepper’s hand now.

“So… You made your decision.”

Pepper nodded, squeezed his hand. “And you made yours.”

“We’re being strangely mature about all this stuff.”

“I'm always mature about stuff.”

Tony couldn't manage to hold his smile, and Pepper pulled him into a hug. 

It didn't feel like his heart was breaking. Not really, because Pepper wasn't breaking it. This had been coming for at least a year, ever since Tony had hopped back into the Avengers gig - _and what a mess that turned out to be_ \- so their decision wasn't coming as a surprise. It wasn't the pain of a heart torn in two. But it did have the pain of something inside being moulded differently, of pieces settling back into old places again, a cherished keepsake being boxed up. 

When SHIELD had fallen, and Hydra had resurfaced, Tony had known what stepping back into the armour would mean for their relationship. But he couldn't _not_ step into the armour, not knowing what it could mean for the world to face Hydra without the Avengers. He’d known the cost of his decision. But at least it hadn't cost him everything. 

And he didn't deny the thrill of being a superhero, of battling it out with his team at his side, fighting the good fight, righting his wrongs. Of course, that was now tainted, ever since…

But Tony could never regret a second of being with Pepper, and he hoped she wouldn't either. He’d been a hot mess to deal with, but they hadn't been without their good moments too. Moments he knew Pepper still cherished because he could feel the shrapnel necklace around her neck still.

“I love you,” Tony said, voice cracking, pressing the words into her neck, wishing they’d carry in her veins and imprint on her heart, as hers were tattooed on his. The good kind of scar on his heart.

“I know,” Pepper said back, kissing his scruffy jaw.

Tony drew back, painting a horrified look on his face, “You did not just Han Solo me!”

Pepper only offered a sly smile as she let him go. 

She looked down and sighed at the state of her _once_ pristine white dress, now covered in dust. Tony held back a laugh as he watched her blow the fringe from her eyes with a disgruntled huff. Pepper read his amusement easily though, narrowing pale blue eyes at him. Her lips pinched, holding back a laugh of her own. 

“I should go change into something more appropriate for cleaning,” Pepper decided.

“You can borrow one of my shirts,” Tony offered, wiggling his eyebrows as he plucked at the shirt he was wearing, a throwback to his arc reactor days, hole still cut in the middle of his chest, stretched wide from its long use. 

Pepper flushed enough that her freckles disappeared, “I am not your girlfriend anymore, you don't get to see that part of me!”

Tony pouted and Pepper punched his arm, making him cackle.

“I’m also your CEO, _Director Stark_ ,” Pepper huffed. “Not your secretary any more.”

“What?”

“Ross.”

Tony groaned, flopping back to lean on DUM-E’s strut, the bot beeping happily at the contact. “I don't _wanna_ talk to Ross.”

“Well, you’re going to anyway,” Pepper said. “He’s been ringing my office non-stop since _somebody else_ won’t answer his calls. I have a business to run, I don’t have time to be your go-between.”

Tony only huddled closer to the bot, DUM-E clumsily scratching his head like he’d seen Pepper do.

“FRIDAY’s been taking his messages, and I know you haven’t listened to them, but it sounded important,” Pepper continued. “Tony—”

“Alright! I’ll call him back,” Tony grumped sitting up, still sulking. “But I won’t like it.”

“Thank you,” Pepper dropped a kiss on his forehead, before turning and picking her way back out of the ruined room. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Tony turned to DUM-E, prepared to start ranting about having to talk to Thade- _ass_ Ross, when Pepper called his name again. He turned to see her in the doorway, a soft sad smile on her face, making something seize in his chest.

“I love you too, you know.”

A soft sad smile of his own crossed Tony’s face as he watched Pepper disappear through the door.

* * *

**_2016_ **

Tony looped his good arm around the neck of the suit, keeping his legs hooked under Ken’s as FRIDAY carefully rose in the air and back over the railing. Ken fell into Michael and Sharon’s waiting arms, and the suit kept a hold of Tony as he was gently set on his feet. He gaped at his youngest creation, fingers digging into the neck plate as he felt his heart start to calm.

“It’s okay, boss man,” FRIDAY said, the suit taking a small step back.

“Where—?”

“Colonel Rhodes sent me to destroy the other suit, high priority, along with a few other errands,” FRIDAY explained. “We didn't think you’d want it left in Skull’s hands.”

“Good girl,” Tony rasped, smacking a big kiss to the faceplate. “But Skull—”

“Six escape pods have just ejected from the Raft. I’m sorry, boss, but my scans don't reach that far, we have no way of knowing which one he’s on.”

Bitterness swelled in Tony’s chest, like liquid fire, or maybe heartburn - he couldn't remember the last time he’d eaten. Skull was going to get away. _Again_. Because of him. Because Tony had been too slow, so stupid enough to get caught by him, had wasted their time rescuing Tony when they should have been going after—

“Leave it, Tony.” A strong hand grabbed his arm, and Tony turned to see Carol shaking her head at him, “We know he’s out there, we’ll get him. Let’s get off this boat first.”

Tony blinked dazedly at her for a moment, absorbing, breathing, before nodding slowly. “Ken. Ken, is he—?”

“Mr Dugan’s vitals are stable,” FRIDAY answered quickly. “Pulse and respiratory rate slightly elevated, but blood pressure is still normal. He will require medical attention, however.”

“S’it gonna scar?” Ken asked, sprawled in Sharon’s lap as she clamped a hand over the injury while Michael pulled out a field dressing from a pouch. “Like a cool scar? Or one of those weird ones?”

Sharon slapped his hand away, “Stop, you're getting in the way.” Ken snorted, but didn't keep poking, watching instead as Michael wrapped the bandage around his side as Sharon held the dressing in place. 

When the dressing was secure, Michael reached over and smacked the side of Ken’s head, “Don’t you _ever do something like that again_.”

“Hey, I'm pretty sure my hand touched Tony’s junk!” Ken squawked. “I am traumatised enough from that to never do that again, no need to hit me!”

Michael dragged Ken in for a hug, pressing kisses across Ken’s forehead, before helping Sharon pull him to his feet. Tony’s heart unclenched at seeing Ken stand, curled into Michael’s side despite all his protesting, while Sharon went to pick up the shield again. 

They weren't out of the woods yet. 

Bracing Ken firmly against his side, Michael lifted his head, locking eyes with Tony. He’d seen that exact expression on Michael’s face before, back when they were surrounded by sand, not water. Equal parts relief and worry, joy and pain. Michael's grip on Ken tightened to hold himself back from throwing himself at Tony to check on him. Ken needed Michael too. And Carol had Tony.

Tony blinked at the blonde woman holding him. “Carol?”

“Yes, Tony,” she said softly as she pulled out a field dressing of her own. She gently pinned Tony’s forearm to his chest and bound it there with the bandage, a quick basic improv of a sling. The second one Tony had gone through in as many days. At least it wasn't another bra. It’d hold until they got back to the _Nautilus_.

“What are you doing here?”

“Filling in for James,” Carol said, looping Tony’s right arm around her shoulders and wrapping her arm around his waist. She nodded at Michael, and he led them across the walkway, FRIDAY looping around them in the air providing cover and return fire, as they made their way over to Hal’s group on the other side. Sharon brought up the rear, shield raised protecting their backs. 

“Oh,” Tony smacked his lips, feeling abruptly exhausted. It must have been the adrenaline. He hadn't had much else driving him for days. The crash was bound to hit eventually. “He likes you, you know?”

Carol laughed, and Tony was close enough that he thought he heard someone squawking from her earpiece. “I know.”

“You should ask him out.”

“ _Really_ , Tony?” Ken groaned, looking over his shoulder at them. “Is now the time to play wingman?”

“Rhodey’s my man!” Tony insisted. “M’always his wingman. I helped him _fly_!”

Ken snorted, and Carol was grinning as they reached the other side of the hangar, Hal waiting with desperate eyes locked on Sharon. “James owes me dinner for this mission, at least.”

“Good. Good, use that,” Tony mumbled, nearly tripping over his feet before Trip propped him up on his other side. “I can make reservations. Only the best f’my Rhodey.”

* * *

**_1992_ **

There was a gentle hand brushing Tony’s forehead, warm and soft, loving. He pressed into the contact, seeking more, greedy for it. The touch was almost familiar, set his heart aglow-

“Mom?”

The reality set in like a hammer to his heart with the word. A worse pain than the splitting headache he could feel already. Tony was immediately sober and awake. _Of course, it wasn't Mom, it will never be Mom again because she’s_ — he forced his eyes open and met kind dark eyes behind wireframes. The hand hadn't stopped rubbing his head. 

“Mrs Rhodes!” Tony felt his face flush. He’d called his friend’s mother _Mom_ , oh god. 

“Good morning, Tony,” Mrs Rhodes said, patting his head one last time before sitting back. She was on the edge of the bed. The bed Tony was on. The bed in Tony’s room in the Fifth Avenue mansion. The bed Tony didn't recall getting into. 

“I- I don’t—”

“You don't remember coming here last night,” Mrs Rhodes finished the sentence. “Or, well, early this morning, actually.”

“No.”

Tony averted his eyes under that look, feeling like he’d disappointed her but unable to remember why. Other than the pounding hangover banging on his head, an obvious sign of another bout of drinking, he couldn't think of what else he could have done. Couldn't remember. The shadow in Mrs Rhodes’ eyes said there was something else that must have happened, and Tony wasn't sure he wanted to know. 

She jerked her chin, and Tony looked over his shoulder to find he wasn't alone in the bed. 

Rhodey was asleep on the pillow next to his, one hand still resting on Tony’s chest. _How had he not noticed the weight?_ He hadn't woken up to their quiet talking, still snoring faintly anddrooling into his pillow. “He called me, crying, from the hospital.”

Tony gaped, _Rhodey was crying? Hospital?_ “Is he okay?” Tony asked, clinging to the hand on his chest.

“He’s fine,” Mrs Rhodes said. “You weren’t.”

Tony slowly sat up, still holding Rhodey’s hand. He looked at Mrs Rhodes, “What happened? How did you get here?”

She sighed, straightening the covers over both boys before answering. “I drove. What did you expect when I get a call from my boy crying in fear over my other boy?”

“I was… I was in the hospital?”

“Not for long,” she said. “Jimmy said he lost you for a while on your night out. Found you with that blond boy and his friends, plying you with drinks. Jimmy doesn't seem to like them.”

Tony had a good idea of who she was talking about, but kept quiet and let her continue. 

“He told me he tried to get you to call it a night, to come home, but you were…”

“Being difficult?”

Mrs Rhodes nodded. “That other boy didn't help, apparently inviting you to go to another club or some nonsense. By the time Jimmy chased them off and got you to leave, you were beyond drunk. And then in the cab ride home, you threw up and nearly stopped breathing, and Jimmy panicked and had them drive to the hospital instead.”

Tony winced, looking down at his friend’s sleeping face. Even now in sleep, there was a small frown tucked between his brows.

“Alcohol poisoning,” Mrs Rhodes said, tone short, mouth pinched. “Jimmy thought it was something worse, he called the Jarvises and riled the emergency department, but it was just a case of mild alcohol poisoning. They hooked you to an IV and monitored your blood alcohol levels until they dropped. By the time Jimmy called me and I arrived, it wasn't long before we could leave. We brought you home, and Jimmy stayed with you. I think he was worried you were going to die in the night.”

Tony couldn't bring himself to look at her, not after that, too embarrassed, ashamed, guilty. He stared down at Rhodey’s hand instead.

Mrs Rhodes covered both their hands with her weathered hand, butter-leather soft but strong. “Mr and Mrs Jarvis are still sleeping. They stayed up most of the night keeping an eye on you both. I have the day watch.”

“I'm sorry.”

“You don't need to apologise to _me_ , Tony,” Mrs Rhodes said. “I know why you acted like you did, I know you’ve been doing better about your drinking until now, and I know you won’t do anything like this again. Will you?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Do you feel better?”

“No.”

“I didn't expect you would.” Tony was silent as Mrs Rhodes lifted their hands to press a kiss on both boys’ hands. “Oh, baby boy, you're not alone. We’re all here for you.”

“ _They_ aren’t,” Tony croaked, sniffling. “It isn't even like they were always there before, it’s not my first birthday without them _here_ here, they were gone more often than not, and I…”

She kissed their hands again.

Tony looked at her, eyes round, begging an answer, “Why do I still miss them?”

“Because they were still your parents,” Rhodey mumbled at his side. “And you loved them. It doesn't matter how long ago you lost them.”

Tony sniffed again, but the tears stayed clinging to his lashes. Mrs Rhodes released his hands so that Rhodey could drag him down into a hug, and she returned to rubbing his head. Rhodey patted him on the chest, eyes still closed.

“Thanks, gummy bear.”

“Go back to sleep,” Rhodey said. “Your head must be hurting from all the drinking you did.” Face flushing again, Tony still managed a pleased smile when Mrs Rhodes dropped kisses on both their heads. “And Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“If I ever see Stone pouring drinks like that for you again, I'm gonna punch him so hard he’ll shit teeth and brains.”

Tony snorted, and Mrs Rhodes grinned. “That’s my baby.”

* * *

**_2016_ **

Hal grabbed Sharon as soon as she was within reach and couldn't make himself let her go. They were leading the others back to the _Nautilus,_ but he was also scanning her injuries over and over, imprinting them into his mind. His face got grimmer the longer he looked. FRIDAY hovered at the back of the group, taking care of anyone trying to sneak after the group.

“Daddy, I'm okay,” Sharon said.

“Okay.”

“I mean it.”

“Okay,” Hal sighed, finally letting his arm drop from around her. There’d be time for proper hugs later. If Sharon said she was capable, they needed her defending the group more than they needed Hal hugging her right now. 

With nearly everyone else supporting or being supported for injuries, only Hal, Sharon and FRIDAY were free to defend them until they reached the _Nautilus_. Even Dana was busy, helping Michael support Ken on his other side, checking him over with a trained eye. That was the reason Hal brought her along. If only the plan had gone even a tiny bit as planned. 

 _“Next right, Carter_ ,” Romanov said in his ear. _“Breach pod is down that corridor. There are three men between you and the—”_

Sharon hurled the shield at the closest man as they rounded the corner, and Hal was so proud he could burst, looking at hisstrong little girl. They raised their guns and took out the last two quickly, before Hal opened the breach extension.

Two sets of doors slid open, the inner one melded with nanotechnology to the hull of the Raft. When they detached the breach extension pod from the outer hull, the inner door would remain, keeping the vessel sealed even after their team had broken in underwater. And when those nanobots hit open air, they’d dissolve away, no Starktech left behind, and a giant bloody hole in the side of the Raft, rendering it unusable.

Hal shuffled Sharon inside first despite her griping, standing guard with FRIDAY as everyone entered the pod. When everyone was in, they followed, and FRIDAY sealed the door and disconnected the pod. The small vessel juddered as it released from the Raft, but it was smooth cutting through the water back to the _Nautilus_. 

He took this time to hug Sharon properly, the shield clanging on the floor as she hugged him back. 

Their plan had gone to shit, Ken had taken a hit, Tony looked likely to keel over any second, and they’d lost Red Skull - for now - but Hal couldn't bring himself to call it a defeat. Not yet. Not with his baby in his arms safe again, and Tony huddled between Trip and Carol nearby. 

Skull had lost the element of surprise now. It had been stupid of him to take Tony and Sharon and not kill them straight away. Hal was thankful for his arrogance in this though. They reached the _Nautilus_ , all piling out of the pod and heading straight to the small medbay while FRIDAY went and set a course or whatever, Hal hardly noticed, pressing kiss after kiss on Sharon’s blonde sweaty hair, and thanking every deity he knew. 

They’d _just_ lost Peggy.

Her funeral was a painful blessing because nearly all the members of the Legacy Protocol had been in one place. Only Bree and Eliza hadn't been there, leaving straight after the funeral back to Lagos with Stark Relief to aid the area still recovering from the last disaster. The rest of them had still been together and ready to fly out to the _Nautilus_  once they heard news about Tony and Sharon.

If they’d lost these two as well… Hal didn't know what he’d have done. 

Something stupid probably.

“You’re not Eliza,” Tony said, blinking up at Dana as Trip helped him onto one of the beds. “I- do I know you?”

“Dr Falsworth is still in Nigeria, Mr Stark,” Dana answered. “And no, we haven’t met before. Hal brought me along as I'm a doctor, and a friend.”

“You sound like Eliza.”

Dana smiled gently, “Same home country.”

“Go Brittania.”

“Will you let me check on your injuries?”

“Ken got shot.”

“This will only be a quick check so I don’t miss any unseen life-threatening injuries, Mr Stark. If I think Mr Dugan is still higher priority after, I’ll give you something to help with the pain and see to Mr Dugan. Sound fair?”

Tony listed to one side before Dana caught him, gently easing him to lie down on the bed. “Michael?”

“I’ve got Ken,” Michael said, tone soothing, standing by Ken’s bed and laying out the equipment Dana had instructed him to before she’d moved to Tony’s side. “Let the doc check you quickly and then she and I will swap places.”

“Okay.” Tony turned back to Dana, pasting on a half-hearted leer, “I’m all yours.”

Dana grinned, but didn't waste time starting her examination. 

Hal led Sharon to sit with him near Tony’s bed. She seemed reluctant to stray too far from Tony, and Hal wasn't eager to be too far from him either. Trip sat sprawled on the floor by their feet, eyes closed, exhausted but unhurt. Hal clapped him on the shoulder, and he quirked a grin, smiling brighter when Sharon ducked down to hug him and whisper her thanks.

“Alright, it looks like Sharon did a good job with your hand,” Dana told Tony. “There’s not much more I can do for it with the equipment here, and your other injuries are extensive but not critical.”

“S’what I thought,” Tony nodded along with her.

She placed a hand on his bare shoulder, “You might feel a little woozy, but this should with help the pain. I’ll come back to you again after I deal with Mr Dugan.”

“What—?” 

Tony blinked and stared at Dana’s hand on his shoulder. 

The aches and pains in his body were becoming fuzzier, muted, not gone but not raging… And Tony wasn't entirely certain he wasn't hallucinating and delirious when he saw black lines creeping up Dana’s arm from his shoulder.

* * *

**_2008_ **

“There’s been speculation that I was involved in the events that occurred on the freeway and the rooftop—”

“I'm sorry, Mr Stark,” and that was Everheart. Tony bit back a groan. “But do you honestly expect us to believe that was a bodyguard in a suit, that conveniently appeared, despite the fact that—”

“I know that it’s confusing,” Tony said. “It’s one thing to question the official story, and another entirely to make wild accusations or insinuate that I'm a superhero.”

Everheart’s lips curled, “I never said you're a superhero.”

“You didn’t?” Tony blinked, _maybe he’d taken too many painkillers_ , he was sure… “Well, good. Because that would be outlandish and… fantastic.”

He could see Everheart holding back a derisive snort, brows quirking, the picture of a professional journalist. But Tony couldn't get that word out of his head now. _Superhero_. It had been a long time since he’d last thought of being a good guy, longer still since he’d played superheroes.

“I- I’m just not the hero type. Clearly,” Tony continued, avoiding Everheart’s eyes now as the words came tumbling out. “With this, er, laundry list of character defects, and _all_ the mistakes I've made. Largely public—”

Rhodey leaned in, and Tony turned to him. “Just stick to the cards, man.”

“Yeah,” Tony nodded, _focus, focus_. “Okay, yeah.”

Rhodey stepped back again, and Tony turned back to the sea of reporters, holding the cue cards up to remind himself to stick to them. 

“The truth is…”

 _It was a bodyguard_.

The words wouldn't come out though. They were stuck on the paper cards in his hand, couldn't find their way out of his mouth. 

Because Tony had done that. He’d stopped Stane. He’d worn the suit. He’d saved people. He had… he had done _good_. He had done something he was proud of. Something that he thought, people could be proud of him for. 

And if he didn’t?

If he ever stopped doing good, or stopped doing the right thing, who would the public blame?

 _The bodyguard_.

It was so _easy_ for him then. Believability was already coming into question, but officially, Tony would be free of any blame, and damages, any _risk_ and…

And he couldn't do that.

He couldn't become part of another system that gave zero-accountability. He’d just _left_ one, Tony wasn't eager to dive into that pit again. A life where he coasted, oblivious and above the suffering of those around him. Tony couldn't do that again.No hiding behind masks like Obadiah, no double-dealing, getting to play superhero and suffer none of the consequences. He needed to the superhero to not be just an act, it couldn't be a hobby or a Halloween costume. Tony needed to know _in himself_ that he was committed - to doing good. 

_I shouldn't be alive unless it was for a reason._

Looking out at the reporters, Tony imagined what the public might see when they saw the armour. The devil, or a saviour? 

He couldn't let the suit’s actions be down to _the bodyguard_. If he did something wrong, if he _hurt_ anyone, Tony needed to know that people could tell him. Would stop _him_ , the person behind it. Tony wondered how many people would have been saved if people he had _known_ Stane was behind those illegal weapons trades. If Tony had known _who to stop_.

If Yinsen and his family would have lived, had Tony known the true enemy in his life.

_Don't waste it. Don't waste your life._

The thought of what to do made Tony shudder inside, he wanted to revel and fall from all the responsibility he was considering. But the chance to do the right thing, to pay penance for the blood Stane had left on his hands, to help in a way he’d once dreamed of as a child, to use his weapons, his technology, to _protect_ …

There would be so much risk, to him and his loved ones, Tony knew that. Any enemy he made, it would paint a big damn target on anyone close to him. Anonymity would protect them.

Anonymity wouldn't protect the rest of the world though.

Tony was an inventor. A mechanic. An engineer. He’d lived nearly his whole life as a scientist. 

And lived nearly all of it alone in the public, because of _secret identities_.

Tony hated secret identities- _Mary Fitzpatrick, Agent 13._ He hated what it had already cost him - _Peter Parker_. Hated how good he was at keeping them. How different _Tony_ was from _Tony Stark_.

What would it be like to have one less secret identity?

Mentally apologising to Rhodey and Pepper, Tony lowered the cards, looking out at the reporters with his head held high. He knew what he was doing.

“I am Iron Man.”

* * *

**_2016_ **

“We’re heading fucking _where_?!”

Trip jumped at Sharon’s shriek, spotting her stomping onto the _Nautilus_ bridge and straight for the armour, Hal trailing behind. To her credit, FRIDAY didn't flinch under the venomous look she was getting. Then again, Trip didn't know if the AI _could_ flinch. Trip wasn't looking forward to where this was headed, ducking over his monitor as he sent more updates to Vision. 

It had been the final part of the rescue operation, in the event that anyone was seriously hurt, and it had made sense at the time. Dr Grace said Tony and Ken would need surgery, but she had them stable, for now. Ken was knocked out and hooked up to a transfusion, and Tony had been dozily peppering Dr Grace with questions when Trip had left them.

They couldn't go straight to the US, not with two - admittedly, illegally held - escaped prisoners. Even with all the fire Ross was under, no one was happy with anyone associated with the Avengers right now. 

And technically Tony had broken the Accord he’d signed, so the UN was looking for him for that too. More unhappy people there about _that_ issue. It wasn't like Tony could explain the reasoning behind his actions when he could barely stand right now.

European forces were hunting for Sharon ever since they’d heard that the CIA was looking to find their apparent  _rogue agent_.

Asia was too far to be practical, they were just south of Cape Town, and Russia was a big fat _hell no_.

Trip considered suggesting Nigeria since Eliza was there, but she was only one doctor, and they had two patients. On top of that, there were the security issues of arriving unannounced just anywhere in Africa. Plus, even in this sub, it would take a long time to get there, and more time would be wasted finding medical help for Tony and Ken.

That left very few options on relatively close, secure locations, with the medical facilities, resources and discretion they needed. Trip had become less and less enthusiastic about this part though, as more information had been unveiled about this whole Avengers fight. 

“Wakanda, Agent Carter,” FRIDAY replied evenly back. “A special air ambulance with a royal escort will arrive when we surface.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohmygod I don't even know why it was so hard to write this chapter, but here it is, they're off the Raft and heading to Wakanda now!
> 
> **New Characters:**
> 
> Bree Dugan - b.1984, granddaughter to Howlies Dum Dum Dugan, by his son Tim Jr, and Jim Morita, by his daughter Hana. Security and Logistics Officer with Stark Relief Aid. Has one younger brother [Ken].
> 
> Eliza Falsworth - b.1988, granddaughter to Howlie James Falsworth, by his son William. Works as a Medical Doctor with Stark Relief Aid. Has two younger brothers, twins [Brian and Jack].


	11. Peter

**_2016_ **

T'Challa sighed as he watched two of their fastest helicopters take off. Having a Princess with them would help dissuade anyone trying to stop their return to Wakanda, but T'Challa knew that their country had been cut off from the rest of the continent for a long time. There was as much tension and bitterness to their people as there was pride and love, someone might decide to cause them difficulties. 

His father’s helping hand out to Lagos recently had helped warm relations a little. 

The whole fight in the German airport probably had not.

T'Challa worried, but his sister was headstrong. And he could rarely deny her anything. 

He waved up at her, watching as both aircrafts flew off.

Okoye and Teela stood guard behind him, but it wasn't their eyes that were heavy on T’Challa’s back. He turned to see the dark outline of a small crowd behind the glass windows of the palace. He knew who was watching and waiting as he was. But they would be no help for now.

T'Challa made his way back inside. There were several discrete doctors he needed to call upon now. 

*

Michael watched Dana checking on Ken across the room, tapping at his IV, reading the heart monitor. Carol was watching her too at Ken’s side, relaxed in her seat, but eyes alert. Hal trusted Dana, and Michael trusted Hal. Michael also had no clue what it was Hal did or where he knew Dana from, but he knew one thing with certainty. 

She wasn't a normal human.

He’d nearly ripped her off Tony earlier when he’d first seen the black lines creeping up Dana’s arms from where she touched Tony. Only, Hal had stopped him, saying it was safe, that it was good, that Dana was helping. And she was. Tony’s body had relaxed, the pinched corners of his eyes fading. The pain he felt had lessened. 

And Dana had done that.

Without drugs or sedatives, things that Tony hated. Michael knew Tony drank too much sometimes, but he’d become much better at limiting himself since… since Peter. He’d never quite repeated that lowest point of his in the mid-90’s again, back when Tony had just lost his parents and the Jarvises. Not even at That Birthday Party was he as bad as he’d been back then. Back then, Rhodes had hauled him off to a discrete clinic. Then it had been much worse than just alcohol Tony had been losing himself in. Back then, Michael had feared it would be the end of the whole Stark family. 

Tony hadn't touch anything harder than scotch since, Michael knew that. Couldn't quite shake the want of a drink, but it was mostly under control. But no other recreational drugs. And nothing gulped down or in his veins that wasn't _absolutely necessary_.

Pain relief, it seemed, wasn't deemed ‘absolutely necessary’ to him.

Michael hoped it wasn't a grim sort of penance to Tony, but he knew Tony well enough not to rule it out. It made things so difficult and painful for everyone when Tony got hurt, because if he wasn't knocked out or literally out of his mind in agony, he wouldn't take any pain relief. It was as though he was scared of ever dropping that far off again, and Michael understood that, but these were different circumstances, he wasn't alone and unsupervised and out of control. Tony didn't have to _suffer_.

And so, Michael suffered with him when Tony was like that.

But today he didn't have to.

Dana had stopped that, with a simple touch. 

Hal hadn't seemed surprised, but Sharon had been wide-eyed at the woman as they’d watched. So _Sharon_ didn't even know what Hal did. Michael wondered if Evie knew. _She had to know_ , they went on business trips together often enough, she was his work partner.

Michael was going to have a lot of questions for Hal, whenever he got back from chasing Sharon when she’d gone storming through the _Nautilus_. She hadn't been happy about their destination when Hal had let slip.

In the meantime, Tony was doing some questioning of his own.

“S’it some kinda mutation?” Tony slurred, eyes sleepily focused on Dana. “I feel… not high. But, there’s somethin’ between me and the pain.”

“That’s normal. And as for a mutation…” Dana shrugged, checking on Ken’s dressing. “Yes, and no.”

“Kinda answer s’that?” Tony blinked up at Michael, as outraged as he could be half-asleep, which was more adorable than threatening to Michael, even at this age where Michael’s hair was half-grey and there were wrinkles on his face even when he wasn't smiling. “S’not an answer.”

Dana snorted, holding a hand to Ken’s arm, black lines crawling up her skin. Michael watched as Ken’s face relaxed further in his sleep, his muscles going lax. 

“Izzit a mod’fication?” Tony tried again, not bothering to move his head now that Michael was running soothing fingers through his hair. “Like an upgrade?”

“I was born as I am, Mr Stark,” Dana answered him, crossing the room back to them. She smiled at how Tony had crawled almost half out of the medbay bed so he could flop against Michael in his seat. “Are you still in pain?”

“Do _you_ take it?” Tony completely ignored her question. Dana didn't seem surprised, and worked around Tony’s odd position to inspect the splint on his left hand, peeling back the sling to see. “Are _you_ hurting now? I don't want you t’hurt.”

“I'm not in any pain,” Dana assured him, readjusting the sling to hold Tony’s arm a little higher.

“Then where does it _go_?”

“I don't think I can give a satisfying answer to that.”

Tony pouted, and Michael smiled.

Carol was grinning at Ken’s bedside, on her smartphone texting someone.

“Aliens?”

Dana smirked, “I'm not an alien.”

“That’s what an alien would say,” Tony insisted, but he leaned more against Michael, dropping his head heavily on one shoulder.

“After Hal tells you more, I’ll be happy to answer any questions then,” Dana said, tucking the blanket tighter around Tony. 

“Hal’s gonna tell us what he does?” Tony perked up, eyes wide on the doctor. “Like, for real? No jokes?”

Dana flushed and mumbled something about getting something for them to eat, before she quickly slipped out of the medbay. Tony turned big brown eyes up at Michael, his thinking face on, even though it was somewhat hazy from whatever Dana had done.

“If it’s fuckin’ _aliens_ , I’m never talking to Hal again.”

“Sure, Tony,” Michael sighed, wrapping his arm more securely around Tony as the genius continued his slow but steady progress, sliding out of the bed and tucking himself into Michael’s side.

“… Unless they're like Star Trek. Prime Directive, and all. I get that.”

Across the room, Carol snorted.

* * *

**_2004_ **

“Malibu?”

Tony hummed, back still turned as he kept loading a box, waving DUM-E away.

“This seems… sudden.”

Tony blew out a deep breath before turning around.

Evie stood in the doorway to the shop, looking at him with her brows pinched in concern. 

“It actually makes a lot of sense,” Tony said evenly. “The main plant is in California, the head office, and Obie said it would be good to put in more time to the West Coast. Been neglecting it apparently. Board isn't happy.”

“So, the move is for the company?”

“Yup!” Tony clapped his hands, spinning on his heels to another moving box on the workbench.

“And absolutely nothing at all to do with distancing yourself from New York?”

“Nope!”

“Tony—”

“What do you want me to say?” Tony snapped. “Fine! I want to get the hell away from this goddamn city. I need to. It’s taken enough from me.”

Evie crossed the ‘shop, stopping at Tony’s side, but carefully not watching him as he kept talking.

“My parents, Jarvis, Ana, _Danny_ ,” his voice cracked on the names. “Mary and Dick. Now Peter too.”

“We’re still here. And Peter is still alive.”

“And we’re never supposed to see him again!” Tony roared. “Pretend that we don't know him. That we don't worry about him. Don’t think about him. That we don’t— that we—” His voice cut out, but Evie finished the sentence for him. 

“That we don't love him.”

His shoulders slumped, and Tony hunched over the box. Evie realised it wasn't one of his moving boxes after all. It was filled with photos of their family with Mary and Richard and baby Peter. It was the box Hal had filled from the Parker house. The same box that had sent Hal to her in tears. The box that Tony had squirrelled away.

Evie felt her own heart break at the picture on the top, the one Tony was staring at. It was of him laughing and holding a brown-haired baby, both holding hands up to a curious DUM-E. She knew who had taken that picture too.

“I keep finding myself in Queens,” he said lowly. “I don't even plan it, I just keep ending up there.  Again and again. It’s happened too many times to count. I’m gonna wind up blowing this whole thing, I know it, and if my fuck up winds up putting him in danger, I just, I can’t—”

A ragged sigh, almost a sob, escaped him, and Evie shifted closer, wrapping her arms around him. Tony clung to her, hands grabbing her shirt in tight fists, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the photo at the top of the box.

“If I stay here, with him just out of reach like that… I’ll go insane.”

Evie leaned her head against his, rubbing his back. They stood there together, by the box full of memories, DUM-E trundling through the shop the only noise for a while. “We’ll miss you.”

“I have a private jet. You can see me any time.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Nothing ever is.”

* * *

**_2016_ **

Carol didn't know what to make of the woman who met them as the _Nautilus_ surfaced, two helicopters landing on the prow. James had texted ahead to say the Wakandan Princess would be accompanying the ambulance, and Carol knew not to stereotype, but she wasn't expecting the warrior-like woman striding toward them. Statuesque in a black jumpsuit, head shaved, thick gold bands gleaming against her dark throat, every step coiled with power…

She was so much better than Carol had expected. 

“Your Highness,” Carol said, dipping her head respectfully.

“Colonel,” Shuri nodded back, sliding off her sunglasses. A dozen people poured out of the helicopters, stopping behind their princess.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Of course.” Shuri’s eyes darted behind Carol, to Trip and the Iron Man armour. “The injured are still inside, I suppose.”

“Can’t be too careful these days,” Carol said, finally dropping her hand from the gun on her hip. 

Shuri seemed amused. With a jerk of her head, half those behind her marched forward, carrying two stretchers among them, as they entered the _Nautilus_. “You are Agent Triplett?”

“Former agent,” Trip said, stepping forward with a small bow. “I’m just Trip now, your Highness.”

“And you are the AI.”

The armour nodded, “Pleasure to meet you, your Highness.”

“Fascinating,” Shuri said, looking the armour over. “Will you be accompanying us also? I'm not certain the helicopters can carry the weight of the suit. Though I know you can fly.”

“The suit won’t be coming,” FRIDAY said. “It has to take this sub home.”

“What?” Carol spun around to see Tony, already on one of the stretchers, flapping one leg for them to stop walking, since Michael was holding Tony’s good hand. The genius was looking at the armour with big eyes. “You’re not coming with us?”

“Somebody’s got to put the _Nautilus_ back, or Miss Potts will be mad.”

Ken was carried past them in his own stretcher, Dana and a Wakandan man talking rapid-fire over him about his condition, Dana carrying the IV bag herself. Hal followed behind, arm around Sharon, ushering her forward and ignoring the stormy expression on her face as her hands curled, a knuckle-white grip on the shield.

Tony was still focused on FRIDAY.

“Don’t worry.” A panel in the armour popped open, and the suit removed something small and carefully transferred it to Tony’s ear. He quirked a smile when he heard that lovely lilt in his ear now, “Unlike you, I can be in several places at once, boss.”

Tony still gave the suit a goodbye pat on the arm, but he didn't resist when Michael shooed the men carrying his stretcher on to the helicopters. Carol turned back to the princess, while Trip went on ahead with the stretchers. “Will you be riding with us?”

“No,” Shuri said. “I am merely the escort.”

“And if we’re stopped?”

“You carry on. Your pilot is under clear instructions to continue flying to Wakanda, no matter what.”

“Without you?” Carol was surprised.

“It would only be a momentary delay,” Shuri said, slipping her sunglasses back on. “My brother may be King, Colonel, but I’ve always been very good at diplomacy also.” 

Carol followed her to the helicopters.

Shuri flashed a sharp smile that was all teeth before they parted ways. “Anyone who tries to stop _me_ will only receive a lesson in failure.”

* * *

**_2009_ **

Tony looked at himself in the mirror, his shirt dangling in one hand, squinting at the reactor in his chest. More specifically, the skin around the reactor. _Was it just him, or was it looking a little inflamed?_ He had been scratching at it, a persistent itch had started up since the weekend, the redness could just be from that.

The paranoid half of him though was looking at the red skin and already running through possible explanations. Bad explanations. _An infection?_ Something worse?

“JARVIS, make a note,” Tony said as he slipped on the shirt. “Need to send a swab to Eliza, possible infection.”

“Are you feeling unwell, Sir?”

“Just being cautious.”

“A refreshing change of pace.”

Tony grinned as he headed back down to his workshop. Now that he was showered and dressed in clean clothes, and having eaten something in the kitchen, JARVIS couldn't use any of Pepper’s newest protocols to make Tony stop working ‘too long’. He’d even had a catnap! Or maybe passed out a little into his bowl of pasta, _whatever_ , same thing, it counted.

He needed to put the latest design on paper before he lost it in the hive of ideas that constantly buzzed in his head. A portable suit. Something Tony could carry around for emergencies. That’d keep Hogan happy, and Tony too. It would be better to figure out some way to call the suits to him, because the weapons and defence capabilities would be limited to what could be physically carried, but Tony felt it was still a useful idea, if only to find a way to design the suit to disassemble with a more compact solution.

Humming as he entered the ‘shop, patting DUM-E on the claw as he passed him by, Tony had his eyes fixed on the workbench, when JARVIS caught his attention again.

“If you were feeling at all unwell, Sir, I have gathered some news that should cheer you up.”

Tony paused, halfway to the workbench, waiting for the AI to continue. “Well?”

“If you’d make your way to the sitting area, I will display it on the TV monitor.”

“The sitting area?” Tony frowned, suspicious. “Why? JARVIS, are you trying to get me to sleep again? Because I have work to do. Just put it on a monitor at the workbench.”

“I think you’ll appreciate having fewer distractions with the news.”

Heaving a deep sigh, Tony turned and stomped to the sofa, flopping back into the cushions to glare at the TV. He waved a hand grumpily, “Well?”

“Very good, Sir.” 

The TV lit up, an online news article filling the screen. 

Tony tried to go over mentally anything he might have done to be on the news, but there were all sorts of reasons he could've wound up there. And JARVIS said it was something to cheer him up. News on himself rarely did that. So someone else maybe—

“Midtown Elementary School?” It read in bold at the top of the screen.

Tony realised it wasn't one of the larger national news websites. JARVIS was displaying something from a small regional network. One not even in California. Why—

“School Fair?”

“If you would direct your attention…” A section of text highlighted halfway down the page, and Tony scanned the contents. He thought his jaw might have dropped when he realised what it was.

_… 1st Place went to Peter Parker, for his project studying Frisbee Aerodynamics, and additionally its relation to Captain America. A fascinating insight into the symbol behind the hero, combining elements of engineering, history, and comic books too, young Peter showed a scientific understanding far beyond his years. Science teacher Mr Warren assured the judges he had not given Mr Parker unfair support, but did not appear surprised by his success. In his interview, Mr Parker said he found inspiration in…_

His heart started to pound against the reactor as Tony devoured the words. He felt his face hurting from how hard he was grinning. _Peter_. The kid had won a Science Fair at his school by being as big a nerd as Tony had ever dreamed of him being. The aerodynamics of Cap’s shield sounded exactly like something Tony would have loved to work on with him. Or- or something Mary and Dick would’ve like to do too. 

“Thanks, J.”

“Of course, Sir.”

 _… pictures of the Prize Winners and their winning displays_ _below…_

He hesitated to go on, to see what that little baby looked like now, how big he’d gotten, if he looked more like Mary or Dick. In the end, Tony knew he wouldn't be able to resist. He gave a sniff, smile still fixed on his face, as he readied himself to scroll down.

* * *

**_2016_ **

There was a certain hush in the cabin, as the helicopters cut through the air, now that they'd left the _Nautilus_. 

There was noise, of course; the chatter of the pilots co-ordinating with ATC, Carol piping up with questions now and then from where she was sat near the front; Dana’s soft murmuring with the Wakandan medic as they bent over a very pale Ken and his stretcher, a worried pinch to her mouth; and Trip and Michael were talking quietly over the other stretcher. Tony had yet to let go of Michael’s hand, _or was it the other way around?_

Either way, it was a comforting background noise. Hal turned and pressed another kiss to Sharon’s hair, his arm wrapped securely around her, both of them watching over the rest of their group carefully from the bottom ends of the stretchers.

At least, _Hal_ was watching them carefully. He could do that now. Now that his daughter was safe and literally in his arms.

Sharon didn't really seem to be seeing anything in the helicopter, for all that her eyes were open. Her brows were drawn low, but the rest of her face could be set in stone with how taut and unmoving it was. The shield across her knees was still held in tight fists, and if it hadn't been made of vibranium, Hal wouldn't have been surprised if Sharon might have warped the metal with how hard her grip was.

Hal rubbed one hand, “Why don't you put that down for a bit, sweetheart? Stretch your fingers a little.”

Sharon jerkily shook her head, drawing the shield closer.

“You’ll hurt your hands if you keep doing that. Put the shield down.”

“No,” Sharon shook her head again. “If it’s in my hands, Tony knows it’s safe. He won’t be afraid.”

Hal’s eyes cut across to Tony. 

He was being fussed over by Michael and Trip, half-heartedly telling them to stop, but with a small smile on his face that only encouraged them to continue. He thought Trip was retelling the rescue mission from their side, from the wild arm movements and ridiculous finger-guns he kept doing. 

“What do you mean he won’t be afraid?”

Sharon finally looked at him, and Hal would have labelled that expression _guilt_ , if Sharon had anything to feel guilty about. _Did she have something to feel guilty about?_ “He froze up,” she whispered. “When he saw the shield, before I held it, Tony had a- a panic attack when he saw it.”

“What?” Hal’s eyes kept darting between Tony and the shield. “Why?”

“ _Why?_ Because Steve fought him with it,” Sharon hissed, the guilty look fading to one of anger. “Dad, he put it through the chest plate. He _broke the arc reactor_.”

Hal’s hands shook as he gaped at the shield in Sharon’s lap, staring at the scratches and burn marks with new horrified eyes. After a minute, he set a hand over hers, nodding to Sharon, “Okay. When we get to Wakanda, we give it back to him, and then you and Tony won’t have to see it again.”

“Give it back to…” Sharon frowned, looking down at their hands. “Give it back to who?”

“To Captain America.”

Sharon froze up, her every muscle tensing as her jaw snapped closed with a loud click of her teeth. Slowly, deliberately, she turned to him, and Hal saw an expression of such _fury_ he nearly flinched. Not because he was afraid of her, never afraid of his baby. But because Hal had seen that expression once before, over thirty years ago in the mirror on his own face. If Sharon was feeling anything like what he had then…

“I thought you knew,” Hal said quickly. 

“Thought I knew _what_?”

“Captain America and his friends are- you were so angry about going to Wakanda, I thought you knew.”

“I was angry because I wanted to go _home_ , I wanted to see Mom. I was angry because Red Skull is still alive, still a threat, still our _Secretary of Defense_. I was angry because I had to watch Tony get take away to be hurt more just so we could—” Sharon hissed, voice growing louder with every word, the others in the cabin growing quieter. “And _he’s_ in Wakanda?!”

“Shar—”

“ _STEVE'S IN WAKANDA?_ ”

A high beeping noise cut through Sharon’s anger.

Hal turned to see Tony, looking as pale as Ken, shock still in his stretcher as his heart monitor went crazy. Michael curled over Tony’s head, brushing his hair with one hand, while Trip spoke quickly, both trying to soothe their genius. Dana practically threw herself across the cabin, from one stretcher to the other, voice steady but her hands a blur over the medical equipment as they tried to calm Tony.

That guilty expression struck Sharon’s face again, and Hal gathered her in his arms.

“I didn’t- I didn't mean to—”

“I know,” Hal pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “I’m sorry, I thought you knew. It’ll be okay. You, both of you, you don't have to see him.”

“Of course not,” Trip picked up Hal’s words. “You hear us, Tony? He’s not gonna see you. You don't have to see any of them if you don't want. We won’t let them bully past us or anything.”

Tony looked up at Michael, his eyes wide, and Michael answered his unspoken question easily. “We’re all here. They’ll have to get through us, and I'm not moving.”

“None of us are,” Dana added. “No one gets to disturb my patients on my watch, Mr Stark.”

“He can’t see Tony,” Sharon said, watching as between Michael and Trip they got Tony breathing slower, a little steadier again, though his eyes were still wildly darting around. “Steve can’t see him.”

“He won’t,” Hal promised her. If Hal had to physically stand between Captain America and Tony he would.

Sharon turned her gaze back down to the shield across her knees. Hal was surprised the paint on it didn't melt under the heat of her glare. “I gave the shield to him before. Before he- I gave it to him and he hurt…”

“You didn't know,” Hal said gently. “What he did is _not_ your fault.”

“Tony said that.”

“Then listen to him, he can be quite smart sometimes.”

Tony’s eyes had finally closed, he was half asleep again, that last brief burst of fear having exhausted him of any energy he had left. Hal hoped he did fall asleep, and stayed that way when they arrived. Hal didn't want to think of what any of them might do if Tony reacted like that again anytime soon, probably something explosive, knowing this group. Michael might react the worst, unless Tony didn't let go of his hand. 

Then again, his own daughter seemed equally, if not more, protective of Tony right now. Sharon turned and buried her face in his shoulder. Hal held her tight, not sure if she was shaking from her guilt or from her fury. Probably both.

* * *

**_2015_ **

Coming back home - _is it a home? It feels so empty_ \- after another meeting with Ross, Tony pulled off his tie, shucked off his jacket, and dropped face first into the sofa cushions with a long loud groan. 

He hated that man.

He hated him for many reasons, but right now, Tony hated him because seeing Ross had meant having to wear a suit, and not the metal suit, a soft stupid suit, which still felt like it was choking him. 

He wriggled around onto his back, clawing at the buttons of his shirt until they were undone, or popped clean off in his frustration, Tony didn't care. He could breath properly again, what did it matter if a few buttons had popped or the expensive suit had wrinkled. Kicking off his shoes and hearing them drop somewhere onto the floor, Tony stretched his toes with a groan and flung out his arms, sinking back into the sofa, letting go and relaxing. 

It lasted a full minute before the silence became too much, too crushing, and Tony tapped at the glasses still perched on his nose, a little crooked from all his shuffling about.

“FRIDAY, talk to me,” Tony said through yawn. “Anything interesting happen while I was with Ross?”

“There was another sighting of Rumlow, Cuba this time,” FRIDAY said, throwing the surveillance photos up onto the lenses of his glasses. 

“Different man again?” Tony asked, already knowing the answer, it was staring up at him from the photos. 

“Sorry, boss, no matches on facial recognition again.” 

Rumlow had met half a dozen times with a mystery man - and that was only the times Tony had managed to catch on surveillance - and every time the man had a different face. And Tony knew it was the same man despite the face change because of FRIDAY’s analyses. The man always had the same height, same physique, same gait and the same gestures. It was just the face. It was one man Rumlow was meeting, Tony was certain, but he couldn't figure out how the man had a different face each time. 

He’d input a new program that would reveal if he was using one of SHIELD’s old digital masks to alter his appearance, but it wasn't that. It could be down to good old prosthetics to alter his appearance, but it changed so vastly each time it might as well be a full mask. Tony was getting nowhere with the man’s identity. And nowhere with Rumlow’s location, _slippery sonovabitch._

“Authorities missed them both?” Tony still checked anyway.

“Unfortunately, boss.”

“Keep an eye out,” Tony hummed, blinking sleepily. “Did the bots behave while I was out?”

“DUM-E has spontaneously taken to reorganising the workshop kitchenette. I would recommend a full clear out after. Despite my repeated instructions, he ignored suggestions that several food items are meant to be kept in the refrigerator and freezer.”

Tony winced, imagining the potential mess. Another one for him to clean up. “And the others didn't stop him?”

“U assisted him,” FRIDAY said, with a note of humour. “Butterfingers was recharging.”

“Recharging the whole time? Yeah, right!” Tony laughed tiredly. “Avoiding trouble is what she was doing. Unlike the boys.”

“Also, another video has emerged about the new vigilante.”

Tony sat up at that, drowsiness forgotten, as he watched the latest video from Youtube of that red-and-blue vigilante. Stopping a mugging this time, it seemed, and dropping the culprits off in front of a police station. Well, dangling them in front of the station, if you wanted to be technical. Tony wanted to get a sample of whatever the guy was using, the properties were fascinating to study. 

The substance was strong enough the weight of several full grown men - probably more - and it stuck to what seemed like _everything_. It didn't show wear or tear when the vigilante’s victims struggled wrapped up in the substance, tensile strength was off the charts based off of his calculations, but it also didn't harm them. And after some time, it simply disintegrated. Tony wanted to know more.

“Boss, there’s something else.”

“Hmm?” Tony rewound the video, taking mental notes about any other features of the strange webby substance. It would be an incredibly useful tool, a non-violent way of restraining people without hurting them, huge potential with the ever-increasing number of suspicious incidents across the globe that smelled of Hydra. If Tony could speak to the vigilante, recruit them maybe—

“I managed to follow the vigilante soon after the video was taken.”

Tony paused the video. “Traffic cams?”

“Among others,” FRIDAY admitted, a little sheepishly. “I discovered his identity.”

“Is he dangerous?” Tony asked. That had always been a concern, that Jameson’s smear campaign, his claims in the Bugle about the vigilante, were true.

“Not precisely.”

The picture FRIDAY brought up was both much better and much worse than he expected.

* * *

**_2016_ **

Sharon stayed in her Dad’s arms the rest of the flight. They weren’t stopped on the way, thankfully, their escort doing its job well in ensuring a clear path to Wakanda.

She couldn't make herself let go of the shield, but it wasn't only for Tony’s peace of mind. Sharon worried what she’d do if her hands were free. She was half a mind to just hit the nearest thing, which wasn't good because the nearest things to her were all people she cared very much about. 

The anger had been simmering since Tony had first told her what happened in Siberia, tempered by their situation with Red Skull, and her own guilt at her contribution to Tony’s pain. She was still processing everything really, and had been ready once they’d been rescued to just go home and spill everything to her Mom for help. 

Not that her Dad didn't help, but he became a little touchy talking about certain things, like Sharon’s love life. And Sharon wanted to talk about that kiss with Steve, needed to, even if it had nothing to do with her love life or romance, _among other things_ , and her Mom was the best person to talk to about that. Mom wouldn't judge, and Mom would help settle Sharon’s emotions, help her prioritise, make clear her thoughts, brush off her troubles and pass her over to Dad to help her stand up again. 

Too much had happened so quickly - Tony’s pain, physical and not, her own pain, Ken’s, the whole _mess_ that had been left behind after what had happened in that German airport for all the world to see on the news… Sharon was so tired, and she had wanted a break, a little time to just sit somewhere safe and get her head on straight.

 _Steve’s in Wakanda_.

The moment the words had left her Dad’s lips, what had once been simmering, bubbling in the back of her mind, became a roaring inferno, threatening to boil over. 

Sharon wanted to howl into the wind, scream until she felt nothing.

Sharon wanted to- she wanted to look Steve in the eye and demand he tell her _why_. She knew what he’d say, she knew his reasonings, but she wanted him to tell her while she held his shield, tell her while she held the weapon he’d used against her Tony, the weapon she’d fucking _handed to him_ , she wanted Steve to everything explain to her - _to her face_ \- as she stood between him and Tony.

She wanted enough of running behind the backs of friends, of _fighting_ her friends.

She wanted enough of working on half-cocked plans and withheld information.

She wanted enough _secrets_.

And Sharon didn't think she was alone thinking that.

Better to start with one of the oldest ones.

“Dad…”

He turned his head, pressing his cheek to her hair, “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“You’re- you're going to tell me what you and Mom do,” Sharon said firmly. “I’m- I'm tired of pretending I don't know you're lying, tired of worrying where you go for business trips, sick of how you both sometimes come back home hurt, and won't tell me why. I want- I want to know.”

“Okay,” he said after a pause. “Okay, I was gonna tell you soon anyway, but one thing kept coming up after another—”

“And the others,” Sharon insisted, digging her nose into his shoulder. “I'm not the only one who worries.”

“I will.”

“But, not right now,” Sharon decided, looking to the side. Tony was asleep, or unconscious. Michael was still petting Tony’s hair, while Trip slumped across Tony’s knees, exhausted. Dana had returned to Ken’s side. “We need to sort this out first.”

* * *

**_2016_ **

May hadn't been surprised to see Tony when he arrived earlier, but not for the reasons Tony was here for.

“Are you here to stop him?”

“No,” Tony had said, wincing in anticipation of any protective anger on her part. 

He wasn't surprised she knew what Peter had been up to in secret. He remembered how shrewd a woman May was, how clearly she saw things in people that they tried to hide. It had made him uncomfortable at first, all those years ago when they’d met, but Tony had learned to love that part of her. It was easier to share things sometimes if you didn't have to say them out loud.

But May had just nodded. 

“To help him then?”

“No,” Tony had said. “To ask for his help.”

“I see,” she’d set her cup of tea down on the table. “Will it be dangerous?”

“It might be. A little.”

She’d said nothing to that, had cut him another slice of her cake, which was scolding enough and she knew it, there was a little gleam in her eyes as she watched him force another bite down. _So she remembered he hated walnuts_. Tony had to admire her mind, as he’d washeddown his next mouthful with tea, sharp as it ever was. 

She hadn't changed much. Older, certainly, but then so was he. May had aged beautifully, a few fine lines on her forehead, her eyes creased more, a few strands of grey in her dark hair, and something about the way she held herself. Tony wondered what May saw when she looked at him, what had changed about him on first sight. 

“Are you going to tell him?”

Tony didn't have to ask to know what May was asking about. “You think he should know?”

“Yes,” a sad tilt had pulled at her mouth, and she’d turned to the photo frames dotted around the room. “I think it would do Peter good to know he still has family. That he has more than just me.”

Tony remembered what, _who_ , she’d lost. He’d sent flowers when FRIDAY had caught the news, had paid for all the arrangements May had made. She’d still known who to address it to, on a thank you card and box of cookies, despite all his efforts to keep his contribution anonymous. Wasn't surprising, there probably weren't a lot of people she knew who could just shell out that much money with no trouble.

It hadn't been much, but it had been the first direct contact for Tony with the Parkers in over a decade. And it had been enough, because Tony couldn't imagine what losing a spouse felt like, but if his memories of Jarvis after Ana, and Peggy after Danny, were anything to go by, that May had done even that much while keeping together for her and Peter, it was enough. The cookies had been delicious too. 

“What about the danger?” Tony had asked. 

“He’s strong,” May had said. “More now than before especially, but I think he needs more people behind him. Those horrible things that newspaper says about his—”

“I’m only picking up more enemies nowadays too.”

“And you're also more able to protect him than ten years ago. He’s not a little defenceless boy anymore. Neither of you are,” May had said. “He needs his family. All of them.”

Tony couldn't deny the fierce longing he had for them all to be a family again, but he couldn't put it into words, only managing a nod. May had sighed in relief. “After, after this thing I need help with, we’ll tell him everything. I’ll get Michael and we’ll, yeah.”

“After. Alright.”

“You think he’ll be angry?”

“Oh, he’ll be furious,” May had said, but she’d smiled too. “But then, I think he’ll also be understanding, and then very happy.”

Tony had taken another sip of tea before speaking again, still stuck on the idea of Peter being happy to see him, them, his family. “You haven't stopped him. Don’t you worry?”

“Of course I worry, but I don't think I could stop him,” May had said simply. “It’s something he _has_ to do, I think. I didn't raise him to follow his heart only to turn around and tell him off when he did.He’s doing a good thing.And it makes him happy, helping people.”

“… You and—” Tony’d had to clear his throat from the nerves of his next words. “You and Ben raised him really well.” May had looked surprised. “I, er, sorta kept up with him whenever he made the news. Nothing else, I swear. Just, so he likes science? Bit of a whizz kid, huh?”

“Just like his parents,” Mary had said proudly. “And you.”

“I’ll look after him,” Tony had promised her. “I need his help, but I’ll have his back, he shouldn't be in the thick of it, I only need him to help pick up after. He’ll be home before you know it, this _thing_ shouldn't take long.”

“Okay. Where—”

The front door swung open, and Tony reminded himself not to panic and throw up May’s walnut date loaf, which sat heavy in his stomach. 

“Hey, Aunt May. There’s this crazy car parked outside…”

_He has Mary's eyes._

* * *

**_2016_ **

T'Challa waited by the landing pad with the medical team he’d pulled together. He’d already co-ordinated with Dr Grace that she would be continuing to oversee Stark’s care. His current emotional state, and apparent aversion and distrust of hospitals and their staff, meant he trusted very few with his care, and she’d already established an understanding with him. Mr Dugan meanwhile would be taken into surgery separately by another doctor, though Dr Grace had asked to be kept appraised of his condition. 

Mr Dugan was unloaded first, and quickly descended upon by half the medical team as they took him away for prep. Stark was unloaded next, Mr Sousa still holding his hand though the man appeared unconscious. The rest of the medical team headed in his direction, but T'Challa saw that one of them did not belong. 

They were promptly stopped before T'Challa had to intervene anyway.

Sharon Carter had hurled the shield hard enough to have Captain Rogers doubled over, obviously not expecting the attack. She'd thrown the shield hard enough that it ricochet back into Sharon’s hands. Rogers curled over his stomach, pressing where T'Challa imagined a fairly spectacular bruise was likely blooming. Something to match the black eye he was still sporting from Black Widow, maybe. 

Teela snickered at his side, and T'Challa could feel a headache coming along when he spotted the princess striding towards them, a look of amusement on her face also.

“Sharon—”

“You stay back, Steve,” Sharon nearly growled, baring her teeth and with both hands curled in tight fists around the shield. “Tony doesn't want to see you, and I- I am so _angry_ with you I could just—”

“Please, Sharon,” Rogers said. “I just want to see he’s okay. I want to make sure.”

“This isn't about you,” Sharon shrieked. “This is about Tony right now, and what _he_ wants. And what he wants is for you to stay away.”

Captain Rogers straightened his shoulders, “He’s still my friend.”

“How _dare_ you!” She waved the shield in his face, “I brought you _this_ in friendship, in _trust_. I thought you were going to make things right. I risked myself to help you, and you went and hurt my family!”

“I didn't know he was your—”

“It shouldn't _matter_ if he was my family or not! It was still Tony!”

Others had followed the Captain out from the palace, though the two stretchers had already gone inside with the medics. Rogers hadn't made it past Sharon, or those who had stayed behind to stand with her. Colonel Danvers and Agent Triplett hung back, but Sharon’s father stood at her shoulder, a silent, threatening presence, deceptive with his lean physique, but T'Challa had witnessed his strength on video himself.

None of them looked happy to find Captain Rogers still pushing to see Stark. T'Challa was preparing to intervene himself before things became even more heated, but Barnes stepped up, dropping a hand on Rogers’ shoulder. 

“Steve, stop. Like she said, this ain’t about you.”

“But I have to make things right!”

He looked wildly to Barnes, but Barnes was calm, his grip on Rogers’ shoulder only tightening. “This isn’t the time.”

“No, I can’t- I can’t keep putting things off like—”

“Steve,” Wilson stepped forward too. “Man, leave it for now. You’re just upsetting her more.”

Sharon pointed a finger like it was a dagger at the man, “Don’t think he’s the only one I'm _‘upset’_ with!”

Wilson held up his hands and backed off. Rogers deflated, his shoulders hunching, the hopeful expression on his face crumpling.

Sharon was unmoved. “You hurt him. And you left him.”

Rogers didn't say anything to deny it, for once not pushing back.

“You didn't break him, but that’s more down to Tony’s strength than it is yours. And I won’t let it ever get that close again.”

Rogers head was bowed, but Barnes nodded for them, “We understand.”

“Will you tell him that I'm sorry?”

Sharon threw the shield at Rogers’ face for that, and he stumbled backwards into Barnes, catching the shield with one hand while he cupped his bleeding nose with the other. Blood dripped and rolled down the curve of the vibranium.

“The fuck I will!” Sharon snarled. “You want to apologise to him, you do it in person, and you do it for _him_ , not to make yourself feel better.”

“I wasn't trying to—”

“And you _don't_ use someone else as your _goddamn_ messenger!”

T'Challa watched as she somehow managed to look down her nose at the Captain, despite him being taller.

“If I find you anywhere near Tony before he’s ready - and that’s if he ever is - you will regret it. For now, I have more important things to see to.”

Sharon cut an intimidating figure, even just in scrubs, what with the blood nearly painted all over her, the fierce expression on her face as she stalked off on bare feet, following the path the medics had taken with Stark and Mr Dugan. The rest of her group trailed after her, and T'Challa was left standing outside with Rogers and his team. 

He sighed looking at them, sharing a look with his sister. This was going to be only the start to his problems, T'Challa knew it.

*

7000 miles away, a FedEx truck rolled to a stop outside a metal and glass building. The driver hopped out, carrying a parcel as he pressed on the buzzer.

“Hello?” he spoke loudly into the speaker. “Got a delivery here for a Mr Stank?”

There was a pause, and the driver fidgeted as a camera scanned him. 

“S’this the wrong place—?”

“Please take the package to the lobby and follow instructions through security. The doors should be unlocked for you,” a woman said sweetly, charming lilt to her voice. “A Miss Potts will sign for the package.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet, I believe.
> 
> And the end of this part of the series! Wow! Cliffhanger of cliffhangers, all the confrontations and drama stuff I'm gonna expand upon in the next part, muahaha!
> 
> I'm working already on a little Natasha & Tony brotp one-shot, as well as the start of a collection of drabbles ( _feel free to send any missed moments you might like to see, I'm open to ideas for that collection_ ) and I'll be getting to work on the next part of the series after I post the one-shot.
> 
> You can check out individual chapter promotions and other stuff I've had a go making for the series [here](https://riverlander974.tumblr.com/tagged/my-graphics). And I'll keep using the ['progress report'](https://riverlander974.tumblr.com/tagged/progress-report) tag for updates on my writing for this series.
> 
> Thank you for all your support and comments and kudos and love so far, it means the WORLD! :)


	12. Character Family Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here be a general summary chart of most of the new characters I've added in this verse (or at least new connections).
> 
> Primarily the genealogy of Legacy Protocol members from the Howling Commandos

[Link to the image](https://riverlander974.tumblr.com/post/150549984082/heres-a-hopefully-clear-simple-and-general) on my Tumblr

[ ](https://riverlander974.tumblr.com/post/150549984082/heres-a-hopefully-clear-simple-and-general)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Blanks and Missing Pieces](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8462380) by [Waterfall_Creek97](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waterfall_Creek97/pseuds/Waterfall_Creek97)




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